Stage Nineteen

 There were dozens of cyclists on this Friday morning previewing tomorrow’s nineteen mile time trial course through the vineyards between Libourne and St. Emilion.  Just about all flew past me with nary a word other than an occasional bon jour.  In this era of Strava no one cares to let up to have a conversation or ask if I’ve been doing a Lachlan Morton, not wishing to diminish their time that all their friends are going to see.

There were even more camping cars than cyclists already parked along the course, a full day ahead of the stage.  Some of the vineyard owners had set up barriers to keep the masses from their sacred grapes, but not all.  Some were in the spirit with decorations of some sort.

The road had been stenciled by municipal authorities with bunches of grapes and proclamations of affection for their locality.  

The road had some hills.  I dropped into my small chain ring for four of them, though never my lowest gear.  Since I was going to be here a second night I kept my eyes peeled for a more secluded place to camp than I had last night.  A church on a hill with some surrounding forest was one possibility.  A cluster of camping cars had already claimed space nearby, but I’d be out of their vision.

The team directors will like this course as it is only five miles from the finish in St. Emilion back to the start in Libourne.  Most of them will have to drive the course multiple times following a rider and will be glad for the minimal return drive for the next.

It made it easy for me too.  St. Emilion wasn’t big enough for a supermarket, so it was a quick ride for my daily chocolate milk and groceries.  It was a rare supermarket with a security guard in the parking lot, perhaps running off the panhandler with a dog that is a fixture at many.  

It was a little early to head to the Giant Screen, so I sought out the library (mediatheque).  Like most it was closed for lunch.  I had hoped with Libourne being fairly large it might stay open.  After eating a lunch of pâté sandwiches on a bench out front I noticed that the summer hours were mornings only, so it was off to the Giant Screen.  

At the 350 meter sign the viewing area was fenced in.  One to had to wear a mask to proceed further and pass by a guard.  When he stopped me I thought he wanted to see my vaccination papers, as Ralph said one had to show them at St. Gaudens for the first time two stages ago.  That was no longer necessary.  He just wanted to look in my panniers to make sure I didn’t have any explosives, even though a very frisky dog with four uzzi-armed soldiers was sniffing for them periodically along the barriers.

The crowd was much thicker here than it had been in Quillan, where everybody got something from those dispensing goodies.  The Yellow hats were the only item given to all, otherwise one had to be lucky or very assertive.  The only items I made an effort for were novelties I hadn’t seen before.  One was a bike bell distributed by the city of Libourne.  Another was a small wooden spoon.  Only the packaging on the spoon carried The Tour logo.

The stage was barely half over with more than sixty miles to the finish.  A twenty rider break was just forming.  It had no threats to anyone in the top ten, so was allowed to build a lead of ten minutes and then more.  Cavendish’s team wasn’t being greedy bringing it back so Cavendish could get another win.  Evidently Cavendish and his cohorts are content to wait for the Champs Élysées on Sunday, as that would be the ultimate spot to break Merckx’s record.  

Not too long after I had taken up a spot in the shade on a small hillside a guy came up from behind me and said, “I’m from Summit County, Breckinridge/Keystone,” having noticed my Telluride hat.  He worked for American Air Lines and had taken advantage of its flights to Paris to attend The Tour nearly twenty times, though usually just the final stage on the Champs Élysées.  

I asked him if he had a favorite viewing spot.  He preferred a spot where the peloton passed twice coming and going on each of its eight transits.  He’d buy a small step ladder so he wouldn’t have to get there super early to be on the railing, but could set it up behind the two or three or four deep fans and have a good view.  On the first few laps he’d rent it out for a euro for a few seconds for people to take a photo.  He always had a line of takers and earned more than the ladder cost.

The best news he had though was that he didn’t think I’d need a PCR test to return to the US, that my vaccination ought to be enough. He wife was absolutely certain, but admitted it could change at any time.  That’s my final hurdle to returning home, other than the TGV tomorrow, hoping there is no issue with my bike.

The action heated up on the screen as riders repeatedly attempted to make a break from the huge break that had separated itself from the peloton, increasing its lead by all its accelerations.  It took a Slovenian to make a break stick, Mahoric, who had already won a stage.  He had extra impetus enraged by the surprise police raid on his Bahrain team two stages ago.  When he crossed the line  a minute ahead of all his chasers he wiped a finger across his lips, as if he was zipping them shut.  Bruyneel on his podcast said the raid had been instigated by a couple of French teams who were very suspicious of the Herculean efforts of three of the Bahrain riders—Poels leading the climber’s competition for awhile, Colbrelli a sprinter hanging with the climbers, and Mohoric.

The French press is quick to be suspicious of anyone who excels, including Pogacar.  The press has stirred the fans to just an extent they are booing Pogacar already.  Both Bruyneel and Armstrong say he needs to gift a win to someone, preferably a French rider, to gain their favor. He had the opportunity yesterday to let a Spanish rider go for the win, but chased him down.  Hincapie was shocked to hear Armstrong make such a suggestion, as Armstrong once swore he’d never do such a thing after he did it to Pantani on Ventoux and it backfired. 

Pogacar won’t have a chance to do it this Tour, unless he decides to let up on tomrrow’s time trial, but that’s not likely, nor fitting.  That could be the only suspense for the day, as the standings are pretty well set.  I’ll be viewing it on a Giant Screen in a Fan Zone near the start, up until about four when I have to head to the train station.