Saint-Leonard-de-Noblat

I made it to the Intermarché supermarket in Guéret with ten minutes to spare before it closed at 12:30, it being a Sunday.  I cut it close, as the terrain had turned hilly and the temperature was already approaching 90 forcing me to take an occasional respite when a patch of shade presented itself along the road.

It wouldn’t have been a disaster if I hadn’t made it in time, as I had reserves of food, but I was eager for some chocolate milk and a loaf of bread.  The limited hours of supermarkets, many closing for lunch for ninety minutes and only being open in the morning on Sundays, if at all, abiding by the spirit of being more employee-friendly than customer-friendly, is one of those features of traveling in France that doesn’t necessarily go in the charms column.  

But as I sat outside the supermarket drinking a liter of cool chocolate milk and eating a sandwich of Camembert cheese, I was rewarded with one of its most highly rated charms when a woman walked by and said “Bon appetite,” a greeting of camarderie that speaks to the French devotion to food that happens no where else.  It is certainly more pleasing than someone slipping my a couple of bills, as happens in the US.

Another of its charms, especially on a hot day, is the availability of water, not only in cemeteries but in public toilets, often indicated by the English term WC.  I welcome the water not only to pour down my throat but on those hot days to pour over my head and to soak my shirt.  I’m ever on alert for water, including early-day manual pumps, though many are no longer operative.

I was chagrined to come upon a cemetery that was still requiring masks as I hadn’t brought one.  I wasn’t sure if the French would approve of a neckerchief.

Fields of giant rolls of hay bring cheer to my soul as well, as they can provide a wonderful alternative to camping in the woods.  They are one of the emblems of rural France, la France profounde, so much so they were featured on a Tour de France poster one year.  Sometimes I’ll roll a couple together to fully shield me from the road, but usually there is a high hedge along the road providing ample privacy.  I stopped a few miles before my goal of eighty miles for the day a couple nights ago to take advantage of such an idyllic setting, partially because I saw another long steep hill ahead and I’d had enough climbing for the day.

I was approaching the hometown of Raymond Poulidor, the much endeared Pou-Pou, fully channeling his spirit, knowing he’d ridden the road I was on countless times.  Saint-Leonard-de-Noblat would be the Ville Départ for the ninth stage that appropriately ends atop the Puy de Dome, as Poulidor had a legendary battle up its road that corkscrews around the volcanic peak with his long-time nemesis Jacques Anquetil in the 1964 Tour.  The two of them grimacing elbow to elbow is one of the iconic photos that defines The Tour.  The Tour hasn’t climb the Puy since 1988, so this will be one of the highlights of this year’s Tour.  That 1964 stage is considered by many to be the greatest in Tour history. 

Saint-Leonard-de-Noblat with a population of 4,400 is rather small for a Ville Étape  without much of a surplus budget, so its Tour decorations were minimal and of a small scale compared to the larger Ville Étapes.  Plain vinyl signs at the two entry points to the town merely announced it would be hosting The Tour.  

Simple wooden cut-outs of figures with upraised arms filled a roundabout and also were mounted atop a ledge.  

A rather tacky yellow jersey was draped over a bull by the plaza where the stage will commence.  Store windows throughout the town paid homage to Poulidor in some manner.  

A street has been named for him, but there is no statue.  I actually happened to be passing through the town in my early days of following The Tour the day the street was christened.  It was the first of many encounters I’ve had with him over the years, as he was a Tour ambassador following The Tour every year until he died in 2019, hanging out in the Ville Départ before each day’s stage and often appearing at the Ville Arrivèe as well.  The road was always peppered with signs of “Merci Pou Pou.”  He was considered the most popular of French riders, more so than the two five-time winners Anquetil and Hinault,  though he never won The Tour, finishing second multiple times. 

Though he won’t have the honor of sending off the peloton in his home town, his grandson, the Dutch rider Mathieu Van der Poel, one of the dominant riders of these times, who did something his grandfather never did, wore the Yellow Jersey, will be participating in this year’s Tour and will be a strong focal point on this stage.