Stage Thirteen

 

I didn’t have that rare good fortune of once again coming upon a town on The Tour route with a screen mounted for all to gather around to watch the day’s action, but my day was highlighted by several other rare pleasures that more than made up for it.  

One was coming upon two UAE water bottles of Poçachar’s team laying along the road on a stretch that hadn’t attracted any fans.  I go years without finding a water bottle, as they are a more prized item than a course marker and don’t require pliers to pry them loose.  They are always pounced upon immediately with greater fervor than anything tossed by the caravan. The bottles were both full of water and perspiring from the cold water within.   

Evidently a domestique had gone back to the team car to load up on bottles to spread among his teammates and not all needed them, so these extras were tossed aside.  There were slight abrasions on both, but they were otherwise bright and new, fresh out of the box.  I’ll now make them two of the three bottles I have mounted on my bike and become a genuine Pogaçar supporter.

Almost equally exciting was landing a pair of socks with the Tour de France logo.  Those were the socks I was vying to get from the caravan.  I failed again, but a woman accompanied by her husband and young son who struck up a conversation thanks to my loaded bike, was clutching a pair, the first time I’d gotten a close look at them and realized they were a more prized item than I realized.  When I expressed admiration for them, she said I could have them.  I was so delighted I didn’t think to offer her one of the course markers I had garnered. I was regretting that oversight for miles, as I could have replaced it multiple times over.  That won’t take any of the joy though from wearing socks with a Tour de France logo.

Not only did I fail on the socks, I failed on the bicycle key chain, but I did snatch the key chain with mini-screwdrivers.  I also failed on both of the canned drinks being handed out, but nabbed several packs of crackers and cookies along with some candy and the mini-sausages, that I immediately added to the small plastic bag in my handlebar bag with madeleines.  I also scored another pack of detergent and a sturdy plastic shopping bag, my beat haul yet.

During the hour lull between the caravan and the peloton I ventured over to a nearby train station and took advantage of its Wi-Fi to get a FaceTime report from Janina on the tornado that hit our suburb the evening before.  Janina had been clearing out the overflow in the pantry that blocks the door to our crawl space beneath the house when the tornado struck.  It passed by so quickly, she didn’t have time to go below.  It blew the mass of magnets off our refrigerator and a Tour de France poster over the stove off the wall,  but it otherwise spared the house.  Two willows in the back were toppled and a couple of smaller trees.  Janina was still shook up by the experience as she gave me a tour of the damage.

Our conversation went on so long I all of a sudden noticed a helicopter overhead signaling the arrival of the peloton.  By the time I got back to the race course the spectators were all coming towards me, the peloton having come and gone.  The peloton had a tailwind and had been a few minutes ahead of schedule.  All was forgotten when I came upon those water bottles a few minutes later.

And then an hour later I stopped in the town of Saint-Rambert-en-Bugy in a gorge to watch the final hour of the stage which concluded with an eleven mile Beyond Category climb up the Col de Colombiere.  There were no bars so I had to settle for a pizza parlor, which was just fine except that it didn’t offer menthe â l’eau, just soft drinks.  A bunch of rowdy guys were sitting out front screaming “Pinot, Pinot” when ever a cyclist passed.  Turns out I was in the hometown of  the French favorite Thibaut Pinot.  He lives nearby, 2,000 meters from from the pizza parlor one guy said, and frequents the parlor.  He lives on a farm with goats, who were featured on the recent Netflix series on the Tour de France.  

When the peloton reached the climb three UAE riders with the same red water bottles now in my possession took the lead with Pogaçar and Vinegaard just behind.  They were four minutes behind the Polish 2014 world champion Michal Kwiakowski riding for Ineos who had a one minute lead on three others.  They couldn’t catch him, but Pogaçar managed to pass all but one other, able to gain the third place four second time bonus, after he blasted off with an all-out sprint less than a kilometer from the finish with Vingegaard dangling four seconds behind.  So Pogaçar chips another eight seconds off Vingegaard’s lead, now down to nine seconds.

When it was over I had the best riding of the day ahead of me for three hours on through the gorge with the Alps looming in the distance.  Off the main road were occasional side roads leading up over passes that made made Pinot the rider he is.  I camped in a forest for the first time in a while, which meant the Bastille Day fireworks I could hear going off were blocked to me.