Where in the world?: Le Tour

Stage 19 of the 2011 Tour de France turned out to be a great place to make our debut on Le Tour: a huge stage in this years race, an iconic climb and a tremendous atmosphere. We arrived on the finishing climb on Alpe d’Huez 24 hours before the riders came through but the party had started well before then as thousands of spectators had already grabbed the best spots and were well set up with all manner of indulgences. We managed to slot the Peugeot in on the side of the road toward the bottom of the hill and set up camp. Gabrielle and I slept in the car with trucks roaring past right through the night and Dean and Helen pitched their tent on a slope that was outdone in gradient only by the climb the riders faced on the Alp the next day. But sleep doesn’t matter – it’s Le Tour!

After a nice campfire and a brief interlude commonly described as sleep, we strolled up the Alp and secured some prime real estate around half way up at around 1300m. Thankfully all weather forecasts for the day were woefully wrong and we spent the day in glorious sunshine. There were plenty of characters on our corner who had been partying for a few days in a row and showed no signs of slowing. Their resident DJ was belting out plenty of dance beats to keep the crowd and the thousands of amateur riders climbing the Alp happy.

In total, we actually waited around 7 hours for the riders to come but there were plenty of distractions: people watching, road painting, tv’s showing the race, baguettes, amateur riders and runners climbing the Alp. The last, and most famous, distraction was Le Caravane – a convoy of dozens of sponsors vehicles and a lolly-scramble-style giveaway. Being on the Alp for the day meant the anticipation really built and as the riders approached.

Actually, first the helicopters approach (we counted 8), then the police, then the press, then the motorbikes, then the lead rider – a speck on the switchback road below – but looming fast.
Then the crowd closes in and their shouting rolls up the hill in a wave. And then, wham, Alberto Contodor in yellow shades and with teeth bared whips past in a flurry, oblivious to the nutters sprinting behind him, he’s up off the seat and roars around the bend – catching him seems impossible. But the next man past, young Frenchman Pierre Rolland does just that. Then it’s a blur of colour as the remaining riders whiz past in bunches, la groupette bringing up the rear.

Le campsite and view from our corner: