Stage Eight

Ralph was officially anointed by The Devil as a Tour follower just after the last of the seven rated climbs on this stage less than seven miles from the finish. Now Ralph has indisputable proof that he was at The Tour. The Devil can be seen at other races, but not bedecked in his cape with the Tour de France insignia.  

Ralph caught up to me not more than three or four minutes before we came upon The Devil’s  trident painted on the road, warning he was just ahead. There was no sight of The Devil, so I took a photo of Ralph in front of his van. He could have been sequestered behind the curtain separating the rear from the front, but moments after we took the photo, Didi came walking towards us from up the road. He at first thought I wanted another picture of myself with him and came over to my bike.

Though there were other vehicles parked all along the road, there wasn’t a large gathering of fans just yet, still over two hours until the caravan was due, so there was no line of people wanting a photo with Didi, as there often is. He’d make a fortune if he charged a euro for a photo, but he is happy to oblige gratis. He is the ultimate fan loving to be at the races and sleeping in his van along the road. He eats simply, as we noticed an empty tin of sardines propped up against the front wheel of his van.

Ralph and I continued on until we were halted just before the three-kilometer-to-go arch by one of those overzealous young gendarmes fresh out of the army eager to order civilians about. He wouldn’t even let us continue riding on the bike path along the road telling us to walk our bikes. It was only 12:30 nearly five hours until the peloton would arrive and all was quiet and still.  We weren’t a threat to anyone one nor was there anyone threatening us.  Generally one can ride all the way to the finish up until at least two.  This guy was an unreasonable prick.

There wasn’t a viable side street, so we walked a couple blocks to an intersection where the route turned and went up a hill. Ralph wanted to go all the way to the finish and then stick around and wait for the peloton. I planned to immediately start on the next day’s stage, so we bid farewell and I went straight, able to remount my bike. It could be our last meeting until Telluride as Ralph is pretty sure he’s had enough. Yesterday he encountered quite a few of the Day Ahead groups and couldn’t imagine putting in the effort of riding each stage in its entirety riding late into the waning light day after day.

A few blocks on I connected with the route at the one kilometer arch. I could have lingered to see if Ralph was still walking or if he had been able to resume riding, but I was eager to get down the road. The next couple of stages on the Massif Central were going to be very demanding with constant climbs and descents, greatly reducing my average speed and increasing my time on the bike, so dallying was not an option if I wished to stick with The Race.

I picked up the beloved markers indicating the way out of St. Étienne and began the climb out of the valley. The very first Tour passed through St. Étienne and exited via the Col de République. This took an easier way out. At four I began looking for a bar. I had descended to a lake that was dotted with small resorts, so there was hope. The first two bars weren’t open yet and the third didn’t have a television, but at last after five I came to a larger town with a bar in its main plaza with The Tour on its television and a handful of patrons watching.

Thomas de Gendt was on his own up the road just passing the point where Ralph and I had been ordered off our bikes. He was a mere fifteen steconds ahead of the French duo of Alaphilippe and Pinot and the thirty seconds ahead of a bunch of all the others who mattered in the standings. Wow, Alaphilippe would regain the Yellow Jersey and Pinot would gain time on Thomas and the others vying for the overall. Alaphilippe and Pinot formed a spectacular alliance. It was a miracle that the Belgian breakaway artist de Gendt could hold them off, but he did.  

Too bad this wasn’t the Bastille Day stage with the two French stars truly asserting themselves. Checking the Cyclingnews minute-by-minute report on the stage, I learned Alaphilippe launched an attack shortly before the summit of the last climb and Pinot was able to attach himself to him and they gladly worked together for the final seven miles of the stage.

I’m always happy to see de Gendt shine, as he is part touring cyclist. After last year’s Tour of Lombardy in September, he and his teammate Tim Wellens rode their bikes back to Belgium from Italy. De Gendt is a rare racer who doesn’t accept a massage after each stage.  Johan Bruynell, Armstrong’s former director, was astounded when he learned this on his podcast.   He said when he was a rider during a three-week tour getting a massage at the end of each stage was the highlight of the day.  Many think it’s essential to recovery.  One would almost think his director would force him to get a massage, but he obviously performs well without.  

De Gendt and his buddy Wellens rank one-two in the King of the Mountain competition, with de Gendt vaulting up to second with all the points he gathered today. Even though I only saw the last several minutes of the stage, it was such a great concentration of racing I felt as if I’d seen it all. Vive la France and Vive Le Tour.