Journey Home - A fitting finale

Well after the sign off on Sunday night, I still had a nagging sense that there was some unfinished blog business. If anything, because I forgot the final stat zone, technically the final drive home was part of the trip but also as an excuse for me to cling on to all this.

So here goes....

The journey home began at 6:30am and involved walking down the narrowest 5 floors of
stairs in Paris, half asleep, carrying a rucksack, over the shoulder record bag type thing and my big hold-all that I had dragged around France etc for three weeks. I committed the heinous crime of putting my credit card PIN number in and realising there were only 3 digits on the screen. I instantly forgot (panicked) which button cancels and which clears and found myself producing the 'excuse me, I'm an idiot' face and finger point. He hates me and presses the right button in the way a border guard hits the stamp at passport control.

I stumbled into the early morning Paris sun, not in a literary way but the bags were properly heavy. I realised immediately that when in a city as big as Paris, remembering no other directions to the car park than, must cross over the river, is not sufficient (remember heavy bags). I found the river...tick, crossed it...tick and picked a road that I hoped I had walked down on Saturday evening.

I'm actually far cleverer (lucky) than I give myself credit it for and was soon gleefully popping my ticket into the machine...credit card declined, debit card declined, no problem I have cash for the €50.50 fee (grrrr) but the machine had other ideas as it would only take one note and no others, making my €20's redundant. I hauled my stuff to the other side of the car park and played out the exact same scenario in another machine. Luckily this was an underground car park that played music (sign of quality remember) which also means it has a man in an office to whom you can pay for your ticket. He now has my ticket and €61. Sadly he failed one of life's great barometers of intelligence, the overpay to avoid change. I want a €10 note and a 50 cent coin but he can't fathom it, three times he looked at the €1 coin and sighed like I was the idiot. So he gives me back the €1 and a handful, not even a €5 note, a proper handful of change. I was so miffed I even got out the car at the barrier and walked round rather than performing cirque de soleil in the car.

Bruce did a sterling job of getting me through the centre of Paris, though he may have been thinking to himself 'get him across the river and I'm sure it will be fine'. It was fine, no need to join the Pheripherique (I have left my attempt at spelling this for everyone's enjoyment) which is a cross between the M25 and a Roman chariot race and I was away on the French (peage) motorway hurtling, legally, towards the tunnel and the train. 174 miles later and with time to spare I joined an impressive queue to get my hanging down thing, depicting my train, which was followed by a further queue for French passport control at which the guard managed a slightly less than cursory glance and finally on to UK passport control in which the officer failed me as a UK citizen by failing to ask me where I had been, what had I been doing in France, what was my cheese of the day or did I really meet Tejay Van Gaarderen and John Degenkolb.

Once on the delayed train and with my window open as instructed, I rested my head on the gap and promptly fell asleep only waking as the first rays of British sun crept through the train window and brushed my tired features (this is of course nonsense I was woken by a kid eating a packet of crisps loudly).

Driving on the 'other' side of the road was weird, queued on the M25 and I was home and this time it really was over....

Stat zone - Hoorah I hear you cry
Miles driven - 3470
Countries passed through - UK, France, Andorra and Switzerland. Would have been Spain but a bike race got in the way and virtually on the borders of Germany and Italy in the Alps and Bern felt German a lot of the time.
Number of cow bells purchased = 6
Amount of cheese brought home = 0. I forgot.
And finally miles cycled = 285
Which includes, lest we forget
Cote de Montpinchon (4)
Cote de Torigny les Villes (4) both ways
Cote de Saint Ferrol (3)
Col de Pertus (2)
Col D'Aspin (1)
Most of Las Lecets de la Grand Colombier (1)
Half of Mont Ventoux (HC)
Half of Finhaut Emosson (HC)
Col des Montets - both ways
Most of Andorra Arcalis (HC)
Most of Saint Gervais Mont Blanc (Le Bettex) (1)

To finish off I thought I would share my top 12 observations from the 3 weeks...

1. I'm sorry I don't speak French but just saying it again, faster, is helping neither of us.
2. Switzerland decide a language (and a spelling) and stick with it, Danke/Merci.
3. You can leave your car anywhere if the Tour is on and as long as it is not on the course, no one cares.
4. The French don't seem to think you need to provide any toilet facilities.
5. You can wee anywhere you like in France and no one cares.
6. Vegetarians are not a 'thing' in France. Cheese pizza is.
7. France is a beautiful country with so many surprises.
8. Andorra was stunning despite the sense of duty free everywhere.
9. Switzerland was picture postcard meets snow globe perfect, apart from the feeling that Swiss Francs were leaving my pocket by themselves.
10. I've never spoken to as many people, from so many different countries as I did on this trip, who knew I could be so sociable.
11. Shouting Brexit and laughing at the Union Jack (I know!!) is funny for about the first 10 minutes. Grabbing the flag and pulling on it, isn't funny at any point.
12. The Tour de France is great.

The End.

Paris on arrival

Notes Dame 

Quality tat

Women's race 

Froome arrives for the last few Km's

The rest of the peloton arrives

Riders sweep round the Arc d'Triomphe 

Post Tour Fabio Aru avoids pests

Sky's Ford Mustang goes yellow 

Kittel looks delighted to meet some small fans 

Stage 21 - A Paris based finale

Stage 21 Chantilly to Paris, the now traditional roll into Paris where, until they reach the centre of Paris there are lots of photo opportunities, the jersey winners have their photos taken, they drink champagne, all on the move of course. Then the yellow jerseys team will lead the race onto the finishing circuit at which point some proper racing takes place as the sprinters get their chance to claim a win on what is now one of the most famous finishing lines in cycling...under and out again of the tunnel at the Louvre, swing left on to the Rue de Rivoli, under the flame rouge, a kink left then right across the Place de la Concorde and then straighten up on to the Champs Elysee for the finish line. They do roughly 9 laps of the circuit but it's that final punch that matters.

We wandered in to the city for a bit of culture, a slightly shambolic and expensive breakfast and an early look at the course. Barriers were up and the Norwegians were already in place on their corner but generally Paris was going about its business.

This all added to the slightly surreal feeling I was experiencing but as we walked down the Rue de Rivoli they were inflating the one km banner and once on the Champs Elysee the finish was in place as were all the barriers so it was definitely happening.

We bumped in to Ned again and after reminding him of where we met last, we had a good ten minutes on the state of the race, Sky's dominance and what everybody else needs to do. Said it before...lovely bloke.

Walked up to the Arc de Triomphe and on the way back down it was time for Chris to head home. I carried on the half hearted tourist act wandering about but leaving the Champs area and walking along the river towards The Eiffel Tower.  Problems began when I then tried to get back to the Champs Elysee. The Police had set up little road blocks and were stopping anyone with rucksacks. I completely understand the reasoning but it seemed a bit strange when I had been in the area all morning and there were lots of people walking round with rucksacks on literally yards behind the Police block. Giving up on that block, I tried the next one and he could see my reasoning or just thought sod it and got to the bag checking stage. Just as he was about to let me through he wanted to check the very front pocket, which contained (taking you back about 15 blogs) the wire cutters for taking Tour signs from lampposts. I demonstrated what they were for and then gave them to him if that would secure my entrance. It wouldn't so I snatched them back and set off for the next one. This time it was much easier as they were simply checking bags. I put the wire cutters in my pocket (devious) and after the bag was checked, twice, was back on the Champs Elysee.

I watched the opening few laps of the women's race and decided to head back to the hotel and get rid of the pesky rucksack.

After grabbing some lunch, by the time I had negotiated my way back to the Champs Elysee, the crowds were heavier and I was searched three times just using the metro to go from one side of the street to the other. The caravan was making its last appearance when I met up with the others and we left the Champs to take up a spot on the road just behind that the race which they would use to transition on to the finishing circuit. This was a nice extra and we would still have time to get back to see them come round on the first lap of nine.

Just as the peleton was coming through, we noticed a bidon in the road. I say we, I was still pointing at it as Jamie was scampering into the road to get it. To be honest, I didn't think it was particularly risky but the nearest Policeman did and as we tried to walk away he asked Jamie 'if he was stupid?' in pretty good English. However, the rest of the telling off was in French so didn't really have the effect I'm assuming the policeman was hoping for.

As we weren't on a barrier, we would see them come through and then move on, making our way round the Arc de Triomphe section. This was perfect as there were 2 screens to keep up to date and we had lots of different views over the 9 laps.

Though it had been in my mind since we arrived in Paris and was probably the reason I didn't have a great early afternoon, it was only really with two laps left, some 14km, that it properly dawned on me that the race and my trip was nearly over.  I didn't enjoy the afternoon as it just felt like it wasn't the race I had been following. Paris felt too big, too busy and I didn't recognise it as the Tour I had followed.

As they heard the bell and they came by for the last time, I actually gave them a wave. Then it was over, the final sprint was won by Andre Greipel of Team Lotto, who saved his Tour with that win and bringing up the rear Team Sky, decked out in special yellow trim on their kit, rode across the line as a team to celebrate Chris Froome's win.

And that was it, before they had even started the presentations, they were removing barriers and in the taxi back to the hotel tonight, the course was long gone and everything was back to normal.

My Tour was not quite over as me and Jamie wandered down to an area of large hotels were all the teams stay for the last night in Paris. It was good fun seeing them all come back from the race. While Jamie is a fan of the rider selfie, apart from my two that you know about, I'm much happier taking a pic from a distance. In fact I had more fun in my role as look out.

After a couple of hours (I don't think I could let go) we grabbed a taxi and headed for our respective hotels. Dinner was a cracker of a tomato and mozarella panini and a crepe and now it's blog time, before the journey home tomorrow.

(This bit should be read over a montage of race highlights - with a suitable music choice)

That of course brings us to the end of the Tour de France blog as there isn't a blog without a Tour. When I decided to write this I thought it was a good way to let people know what I was up to and for me to have a diary of my trip. I will read it back in a few weeks (some won't believe that I read it back every night and there were still that many mistakes in it - part of the charm) and see if it worked as a reminder.

Factually everything I talked about was true, especially any facts about towns or places that may have seemed far fetched and the pronunciations were as close as I could get them to what I understood it to be.

The funny thing about the Tour from the perspective of following it is that I see far less of it than if I was at home. As Chris put it so
well my Tour is made up of 21 moments which encapsulate my Tour. I understand that it hasn't been the most exciting of Tours but I didn't see
that, I have my own moments to build my own Tour picture.

It's gone better than I could have hoped and I hope that came across in the blog. Looking back there was probably only one stage that was a bit disappointing and amongst all the good ones, the hailstorm in Andorra and the French win up to Le Bettex stand out. As I said though, it has been amazing.

Thank you to everyone for your really nice comments and for reading the blog. To Chris for his company through the Alps and to new friends Jamie and Gary who treated me like a mate from the bottom of Ventoux onwards. To
Claire for putting up with this stupid idea and me banging on about it for a year. To everybody else who I have bored about it. To Nick for getting the guest pass and finally to France...for being at times a stunning country, for the majority of the time being very nice and for having this bike race every year.  This trip has done nothing to dampen my love for it and I can't wait for 49 weeks time when we can do it all over again but from the 'sports chair' this time.

Stage 20 - Paris doesn't feel like a ville arrive

Stage 20 - Megeve to Morzine. A final day in the mountains but yet a third straight day involving Megeve. It was the 'Ville Arivee' for the time trial stage and the Tour passed through yesterday on its way to Le Bettex.

Pronunciation Update - Le Bettex...don't worry about the x because the French certainly don't. Think Frank Spencer and say 'ooh Betty' but as you leave the last t change the y to the e in egg. So, with me, Le Bette.

Back to Megeve and just to prove that it has friends in rich places, it had also secured a 'ville depart' for today's stage. We left our hotel and Saint Gervais and set off for Megeve nice and early but with traffic already building we parked up in the small village of Demi Quartier (Think Demi Moore and pronounce Quartier as if you were saying cafetière - as I'm sure you do regularly), which was just outside of Megeve.

We walked in to town and it was already very busy. It is a one road in and out kind of place so trying to bring the Tour in was always going to be difficult. Some riders decided that it would be easier to ride to the start than be on the team bus, which meant we saw all of Team Sky arrive. All the teams arrived and the caravan departed but it was clear from the size of the crowd and the layout of the buses that it would be very difficult to see the riders properly so we decided to head in to town and catch the riders as they rolled past to start the stage.

Megeve is not quite your standard ski resort town as it had been gentrified and contains a Superdry shop and another that just sells Polo based polo shirts which is just what you need up a mountain. Not that a Superdry shop is the chief indicator as that would make Reading more than it is.

Walking to the barriers we met the couple who we had met in the bar of the hotel yesterday, who had their first taste of the Tour. They had taken three cable cars to get to Megeve and when we got there she was clapping any team car that came passed. They had so much enthusiasm for the race that it was great. After a bit of chat I discovered that they were from Twickenham and she loves Longacres garden centre, who doesn't we agreed. The conversation did turn slightly when she suggested that both Lance Armstrong and wait for it.....wait....Jimmy Saville had both taken the brunt for a lot of other people. Very diplomatically I said something about that not being a point of view I had heard before and then mentioned that I thought by stage 20 I would have heard everything!

Thankfully the riders rolled by to start the 'fictional start'. They have two starts the fictional, a kind of ceremonial start where the jersey leaders start at the front and everyone stays behind the red lead car at a gentleman's pace. After usually 5km they have the 'real start' where a flag is dropped to signify the end of the neutral zone, the red car pulls away and racing can commence in earnest.

We were at the fictional start and they all rolled through (relative of course), and just like that we set off for the car, picked up a bit of lunch and diesel, set Bruce for Paris and off we went.

The early part of the journey was the most eventful as we went through a couple of big thunderstorms which were always followed by brilliant sunshine. With Chris in the car we navigated the six peage stations with ease and after a mere 6 hours of two lane motorway driving an entire playlist and a lot of sweets, the cheer went up as the Eiffel Tower came in to view.

I panicked slightly and threw the car in to an underground car park, where I was pleased to hear they were playing music over the tannoy. I
work on the basis that if you are going to play music in a car park you're already ahead of the game in car park security. The car park however was a mile from the hotel and we had to carry our stuff through an already very busy Paris evening.

The sun was setting as we crossed the Seine and I was acting like a normal tourist, taking photos and annoying people. The hotel is better than expected based on previous Paris  hotel experience and dinner was...of course a cheese pizza (though only three not four) and we carried on the Tourist theme with a crepe as we looked up at a lit up Notre Dame. A couple of streets away, a music festival was being held with probably a good couple of thousand that had tickets and were inside the makeshift venue. This artist was clearly a name in France and lots of people were nearby so they could at least hear. It was all a bit lost on so we headed back for a night cap.

And that was the end of a very strange day. I started at stage 20 and I've ended the day in Paris where you wouldn't know the Tour was arriving tomorrow. On the drive over we saw some of the team buses, two Mavic service cars and a couple of vehicles who must have been the start of the advanced party. Getting the riders here is would be the easiest part, flying in from Geneva but hauling the entire Tour the 6 hours, seeing as the stage only finished at 5pm yesterday is some doing. I have been
thinking about how they will get the giant madelaine here for some time.

Due to the transfer we have a later start tomorrow and the race doesn't start until late afternoon, so doesn't arrive on the Paris circuit until 17:45 and by 19:00 it will be over and I will most likely have a sit down.

Stats
Miles driven - 3185
Number of shops visited in Megeve looking for tat but failing - 4
Cheese of the day - more or the Rocamadour I had at the time trial
Tat of the day - for probably the final time it was yet another skoda hat.
Most expensive toll - €44.30
Number of photos taken on this trip - 2390 (I will be starting a tour of people I know to show every photo as well as test them on this blog)

Stage 19 - The race explodes and Tim sees the dead eye stare

Stage 19 - Albertville to Saint-Gervais Mont Blanc Le Bettex. The final mountain summit finish of the Tour and clearly a confusing one on what to call the finish. We rode the first km of the climb yesterday on the way to Megeve and the finish is definitely at Le Bettex. Clearly the bigger Saint Gervais was having none of this and got its name on there and Mont Blanc who has nothing to do with any of this shoved my first driving instructor Les Bains out the way and got its big snow capped mountain face on there.

Albertville is one of those places that you see lots of signs for when in the Alps. Apart from hosting the 1992 Winter Olympics there doesn't seem to be a lot more said about the place, though Wikipedia was keen to stress that despite the Olympics, the town is still more industrial than tourist driven...phew.

After early morning rain in town, we rolled in for a breakfast of coffee, a baguette of half jam and half honey and a second coffee, we thought we should think about the final climb. Not only the final climb of the day but my final climb of the Tour.

Before we left Saint Gervais (Les Bains) a strange thing happened. Yesterday I was reading a small plaque that said that the town was liberated on 17 August 1944, which I thought was a nice connection to the grand depart in Normandie, when over the speakers in the town they played Dido's 'White Flag'.

Strangely at exactly the same time today they once again played Dido's White Flag. I later learnt that at the exact time the Nazi's raised the White Flag the town plays the song as a reminder and has done since 1945 when Dido released it. She must have spotted a gap in the market.

Saint Gervais looked like a Tour town, partly because there is no room at the top of the climb so all of the team buses and media area is in the town. There was a big queue for the cable car to the summit and after realising that I wouldn't get my bike in, we set about riding up. Finally I started to feel some cycling legs and found the climb ok. I decided to say hello to every flag I recognised on the way up which took my mind off the climbing and appeared to make me incredibly sociable and friendly and
slightly unhinged.

The bitter disappointment of being stopped by the Police came at 2km to go, why leave it so late?!? So me and Chris found a spot next to a very nice French couple who shared Haribo and had a small television. We had a nice chat with some Londoners just across the road before we were joined by a couple of friends from back home, who are staying nearby and had walked about 10km up the mountain from their car. I won't list everyone today but about 200 yards down the road there was a group of very excitable Italians, behind us were singing Danes, we had the obligatory Colombians, 'Nairo, Nairo' sang one as I rode past at which I shouted that I was quicker than Nairo Quintana at the moment. The only other person I would mention is the Luxembourg man, who was decked head to toe in the his country's colours (with flag), in addition to this was a horn, a little stereo which played a song he could sing along with and he had a routine which he did every 100 yards.

The climb was not very long and with a free cable car getting people to the top it was a very busy mountain. We had placed ourselves on a spot which meant they would come round a corner and drift across the road to take the next turn that we were on, pretty tight to the corner.

About half an hour before they came through it poured down but this just added to the spectacle. We were getting news through that a Frenchman was leading and as I said yesterday the French love their riders and never more so than when winning a stage of their race. It was also clear that the rain was causing all sorts of trouble on the descent of the penultimate climb, with news of a number of crashes so who knows what the race would look like when it eventually came through.

The Police motorbikes were pushing us back so it was obvious that we would be right in the angle they would come through, then the helicopter appeared and the news that the leader was Frenchman Roman Bardet was true and the crowd were loving it. The French were so excited, everyone else was joining in and Bardet looked a nailed on winner. There was just one rider to go through before, sooner than expected the bunch of favourites came though. That was the first time on this trip that I was peering round the people in front of me to suddenly see the crowd step back and have a rider coming at me, but you simply step back carry on ringing the bell and screaming 'Allez Allez' in their ear. This is why you climb up a mountain, up there for four hours, some of it in a thunder storm because the race is there, a foot away, the dead eye stare in their eyes as they wait for the crowd to part, to turn the next hair pin and get themselves to the finish. They go past and you look at the name and number on their backs to confirm its who you thought it was and you can because it's a foot away. It was also pretty easy to tell who had crashed because the jerseys were ripped and they had been patched up on the go by the doctors. I was the wrong side to see the rips in Froome's jersey but I did see Pierre Rolland who looked a bit of a mess after his nasty crash.

There was a casualty on the mountain that won't be reported in the papers, just as a small group were coming up, mid ring, cow bell suddenly broke and was lying in the road helpless. I obviously panicked and kicked it out of the way.

As we were probably three quarters of the way through the field, riders started coming back down. Due to the size of the climb and space available, everyone had to make their way back down the same
way. Chris nearly got hit by Team Giant's Warren Barguill and at one point we almost had a traffic jam of riders descending while others were still racing up. Finally the grupetto arrived and this time there was no messing about as they filled the road and we were forced on to the curb.

The road was still slightly wet as we descended, a lot of the crowd were still watching riders descend
so we had plenty of room and an audience, the only issue being the fact that we didn't want to get in
the way. I would say 10 riders came past us on the descent, all very quick and making it look very easy. Eventually we were down but not before, in traffic, my wheel was an inch away from that of Eviti of Movistar (#14), I had time to get my phone out, set to camera and press the wrong button before he was away and gone again.

We made it down in time to get to the buses and see what was going on before the obligatory ice cream and ride back to the hotel.
Had a nice chat with a couple that had their first taste of the Tour today and loved it and after Chris has packed his bike away, ready for the drive back to Paris we went for dinner.

We returned to a previous venue for dinner, salad again and it was home. A great day on my last mountain stage. We only see the start tomorrow in Megeve, then it is off to Paris and the final stage of this years Tour.

Stats
Miles driven - 2760
Miles cycled - 297
Cheese of the day - None all day!
Tat of the day - very quiet day but I did steal the sports section of the paper from the cafe
Famous people spoken to today - None unless you count screaming in cyclists faces.

I didn't take so many pictures today so Chris and Bagshot Daren have kindly let me use some of
there's.

Me screaming at this poor Lampre rider (Daren)

Mr Luxembourg 

Fabio Aru warms down 

The grupetto makes its way up 

Thomas makes his way up after giving his bike to Froome (Daren)

Today's not so shabby view 

An AG2R rider works his way down the mountain 

A Trek rider fights his way up (Chris)

Bardet storms to a stage win (Chris)

Nibali gets there eventually (Daren) 

Stage 18 - Just the 6 hours watching cyclists riding up a hill

Stage 18 - Sallanches to Megeve. Just 17km from Sallanches in the bottom of the valley to super rich, £1m ski lodge, Megeve at the top of the valley. The time trial is a very regular occurrence in the Tour, with at least one and normally two per year. However the mountain time trial is a rarer beast and hasn't been seen since 2004. It runs on the same format as the normal time trial we had last week but it will depend on the difficulty of the climb as to whether your true time trial specialists will win.

Quick pronunciation update here, nice and simple one Megeve. Simply change the g for a j and make it fairly soft. So, with me...Mejeve. Slight trick by the French who do love to get rather bored, shrug their shoulders and walk off before the end of a word but on this occasion they decided to stick with it, so please make sure you say Majeve, including the final e and that e is not a hard e, it's a French e. Well done.

First night in Saint Gervais as we and everyone else, including sign writers and makers of tat call it which is a bit harsh for my old judo instructor Les Bains, was fine and we made our way to town earlyish to pick up lunch and breakfast before heading to the course. Time trials start much earlier than normal stages and we actually missed the first rider who started at 10:45.

The ride from Saint Gervais to the course was no more than 5 miles, mostly easy climbing. This was despite the fact that I decided to take both flag poles with me today, which involved using cable ties on my rucksack to stop the poles falling out. We joined the course at a very busy roundabout and made our way down to a slightly quieter section. Certainly by the time the big names came through I'm pretty sure all of the road was lined on both sides of its 17km length.

I spent way too long faffing about with the flags
before deciding that the big flag was too big as it was going to be in people's faces, so I settled for the small one. This was despite people around me telling me to keep it up but the glare from the camper van behind was getting fairly intense.

You very quickly settle in to a pattern on the time trial, as I mentioned before it's a very good way of taking photos but you see a rider go through and in roughly 2 minutes another will
follow. In between you chat, move around a bit, sit down, have a drink and then you stop what your doing and clap another one through. This does change slightly with the lead riders where we do all stay in the same place and look like we are paying attention.

The crowd around us was as ever a mixed bunch and in the main were very friendly. At this point I should mention the lovely motorhome owner yesterday on the mountain who filled up our bottles from a watering can that he had filled from the waterfall.

We chatted to a couple of Brits who were on a walking holiday (one of which I gave a green skoda hat to).
A Dutch family who had clearly given the Dad the day to enjoy himself while they sat in the boiling sun sort of enjoying themselves. He found everything very funny and was clearly loving it.
A Frenchman in the worst dinner jacket and bow tie cycling jersey who though I didn't speak to him, I understand knew his stuff.
We spoke to other Brits, one of which asked me what my other flag was, Middlesex.
Just along from us were the Slovaks and next to them some Dutch. One of the Dutch women would get out of her chair and cross the road and scream encouragement just to the Dutch riders as if she was their personal coach.
Along from them was a man with 6 cow bells over his shoulders.
Back up the road we could see some Colombians with a German moto
rhome next to them, followed by a motorhome sporting an Aussie flag.
Oh and the usual Norwegian Viking helmets.
Interspersed with all this were pockets of french, deeply loyal to their own riders, I suspect more so than some of the other nations that just love the sport.
And then there was the motorhome behind where we were. It wasn't on the road, it was in a sort of layby facing the road. For the first two
hours we hardly saw them, apart from when they came out to tut at big flag. Then they set up a table and had lunch, still paying no attention to the race going on 15 yards away. The post lunch entertainment, not the cycling you will note was for her to, what appeared to us, check his hair for nits. Eventually and it really was eventually, they sauntered to the side of the road, with two stools and a parasol and set about watching some time trialling. To be fair he did invite one of our original Brit friends to join him under the parasol. I suspect this was part of his plan as a few minutes later the Brit was sent to tell me that the small flag was getting in the way of his photos from his stool. I was possibly getting a bit excited and the flag was dropping a bit (or I was trying to get on the tele). In the spirit of the event I did move the flag out of his line of sight (a line I was very much in first) and he said thank you.

We cheered them through, each specific bunch giving there rider and extra cheer and after Froome went through with the helicopter and extensive entourage, it was time to pack up, head back to the roundabout and head home the 5 miles back to Ricky Gervais. The Tour traffic was no different today but again cars were held to let bikes and pedestrians away first.

We arrived back in to Saint Gervais and had a 3 scoop ice cream (for those keeping a record it was 2 x mango and 1 x choc mint and yes it is a strange choice and no it didn't work). I nearly took out the eye of the woman behind me in the queue when I took off my rucksack forgetting that the flag poles
were sticking out.

I then hit two parasols as I made my way to the tat shop, so it felt like like a good time to head for home.

The evening was back in to town for dinner, giving the car a one mile spin and dinner was a strangely doughy pizza. We did get a very nice spot outside which was next to the pavement  and Chris saw Ned Boulting (ITV4 Tour coverage and this year stepped up to commentate) and called him over as if he knew him. This clearly surprised Ned, who responded in a way that he seems to forget that he is on television. However he was absolutely charming in the face of me wittering on about Jamie and Gary meeting him in Bern, me meeting him previously in Boulogne 4 years ago and finally asking a sensible question about what it was like making the transition to commentator. I did also manage to mention my trip to which he I think he simply asked 'How?' There were lots of handshakes and pleasantries and when we were leaving he was just coming in to the restaurant and we exchanged 'Good end to the Tour' pleasantness and there was even a hand on the shoulder and see you in Paris...lovely bloke.

He was also with professional cycling marmite David Millar, who was on the phone all the time, while still booking a table at the restaurant and telling Ned, which bar they were going to. He didn't trouble himself with us two but to be honest there was no reason he needed to. A very busy bloke.

And that was stage 18, three to go, weather is expected to turn now for the next two in the Alps and then it's the 6.5 hour drive to Paris.

Stat zone
Miles driven - 2755
Miles cycled - 285
Cheese of the day - Rocamadour (lovely soft cheese)
Number of different places I tried putting big flag on its pole before giving up - 5
Number of different places I watched riders go past - Approx 50
Rider who for the biggest cheer - Geraint Thomas (closely followed by Richie Porte)

The view of the valley 

Nearly a great photo of runner up Dumoulin but I lost half a wheel

A flag and a Dutch boy wonders why

World time trial champion preferring a flatter course 

Dan Martin possibly not enjoying it 

I like this picture

Stage 17 - Dam, we can't go any higher

Stage 17 - Bern (still!) to Finhaut Emosson. The final push, now or never, whatever you want to call it, there were just 5 stages left going in to today. After the rest day in Bern, stage 17 took place wholly in Switzerland, though the bottom of the final climb was only about 3km from France and the rather pointless border point.

While the stage remained wholly in Switzerland, we certainly didn't. Those pesky logistics again dictated that it would much easier for us to return to France and then ride back across the border. So it was an early start, picking Chris up from his AirB&B and heading off for the 140 mile drive, re-tracing my steps past Lausanne and Geneva, back across the border (didn't bother even looking for the passport this time) and rather than head towards the lake at Annecy, we turned Alpward towards Chamonix and Mont Blanc. As you weave your way towards the Mont it feels like you are hemmed in from all sides. There is a mountain behind you that lets you drive a bit and then when you aren't looking it picks itself up and tip toes up behind you. There is something about a snow capped mountain and Mont Blanc didn't disappoint as we stopped at a vantage point for photos.

Chamonix looked like a town that had the Tour nearby. Hundreds of cyclists were already making their way towards Switzerland and the race. Gary and Jamie had done the same thing and we met up in Chamonix for the 18km ride to the bottom of the final climb of the race but in the way was the Col de Montets, a 9km climb. It was hot, time was getting on and I really wasn't expecting a 9km climb before the final climb, so I'm sorry to say I had a bit of a meltdown. I've said that climbing is tough but there are ways of easing off and trying to recover when it gets hard but when your head goes and you aren't thinking straight you don't do those things and you can't focus on what you need to do. Gary kindly dropped back and let me rant a bit and just rode somewhere nearby which gave me a different focus and eventually I bucked my ideas up and got myself over the top.

We descended into Switzerland, all the cyclists filing through what appeared to be a closed border crossing and set out about the final climb. Not one that I think the Tour has visited before but stunning scenery (actually all the way from Chamonix it was stunning) with a glacier across the valley. The final climb was 10.4km and as has been the way of late it was very hot and was slow progress, some much so that some of the motorhome residents were spraying water over cyclists as they rode past. Through the town of Finhaut and it was off to the summit and the dam. Came across Didi
the German devil who I met on Ventoux and we exchange a very sweaty, low paced high five as I drifted past. Just before we reached the 5km marker, officials were holding some tape across the road to stop anything going any further up, including cyclists. This wasn't part of the plan but I'm not going to pretend that I was upset.

We dropped down the mountain a km, put out the flags, filled up our bottles from a waterfall (if you ever get the chance to drink water directly from a mountain waterfall do it. It's cold and tastes great - go and look for your nearest mountain waterfall and then come back and finish reading this). The caravan haul was very successful and I've become so comfortable with it, I've moved on to a double wave at times, a bit of jumping up and down and maybe even a little dance, in cycling kit and flip flops...what I won't do for a fridge magnet.

The race had gone at an incredible pace in the early stages so today's wait didn't seem that long at all and it really wasn't that long before the cow bell was calling up the leader, Zakarin of Katusha. There was 6km to go but we could see that he was strong and we were all comfortable with a prediction that he would win (which he did - though it helped that the rider chasing him Pantano looked like he had blown a gasket) the rest of the race took a familiar pattern, with the chasers following Zakarin, followed by the remainder of the breakaway group. Then it is the favourites, followed by the recently dropped, until eventually we get the grupetto (or autobus).

We did utilise the waterfall behind us to fill up bottles of water and give them out to the riders, not for drinking that would be risky but they pour it over themselves. Everyone had a bottle taken (I didn't do it, rider safety and comfort is all well and good but there is a cow bell to be rung) to their great satisfaction.

This area and possibly surprising given the mountains has excellent phone coverage so even on the mountain I was able to stay in touch with the race which meant I picked up a Slovakian friend who kept asking me to check...I had a cow bell to ring and soon as the latest rider had passed he would be back again asking for an update.

The descent wasn't so bad due to the smaller crowds on the mountain and once again the sensible decision to stop cars/motorhomes moving until the bikes had got off the climb made a big difference.

After stopping to take some photos of the view, I eventually got off the mountain and immediately hit the start of the climb back to Chamonix. As it was, the return ascent was easier and we were over the top and on to the long sweeping decent.

It was fairly surreal riding back down while various floats from the caravan came past. Being overtaken by a giant madelaine being given a Police escort is not something you would see every day.

In Chamonix there was some tat purchased and a well earned ice cream and more photos of the
scenery.

The transfer to the hotel was very short just 15 miles and took us along a crazy road that in one direction hugged the mountain but in the other direction sat about 50 yards out on a weird bridge thing that took you out of the valley and up the mountain. It was like a strange and not very good fun fair ride.

The hotel is in Saint Gervais les Bains, another of the ever expanding 'Les Bains' dynasty and also the name of someone I used to work with. We are in ski resort country here and Saint Gervais sIt's at 850m above sea level. Interesting fact if also has themed restaurants for each of Ricky Gervais' comedies. Our hotel sits exactly 50 yards outside of the town sign, like it has been banished to the other side, probably because it didn't like Ricky Gervais' stand up work. Room is fine and they even remembered the extra mattress for the floor once they had been reminded. Our floor space has been almost doubled by a balcony that goes round both sides of our corner plot and immediately had clothes airing after another day cooking in the car and bikes drinking mojitos.

The next two stages are very close together, with a time trial tomorrow which is just 4 miles away and then the stage on Friday actually comes through the town very close to the finish. That should mean that there will be no driving to the stages at least but there will still have to be for dinner due to the hotels 'Ryanair' positioning in relation to the town.

The town itself seems very nice and due to its ski resort nature is set up to cater for a large number of tourists, so lots of restaurants (last nights didn't even have pizza on the menu). Though I haven't seen the hotel where two of the teams are staying in town but it's not like I'm going to stalk it or anything (Lotto Soudal and Etixx Quick Step for completeness).

Stat zone
Miles covered - 2752
Miles cycled - 272 now adding ascents of both sides of Col de Montets (I tried to find a TDF category for this climb but the Tour hasn't gone over it since 1977, probably too hard for them....ok, I meant easy) and half an HC climb
Over used statement of the day - How can there be a glacier/snow up there when it its this hot.
Cheese of the day - a very melted Couer de Leon in our baguettes.
Tat of the day - a tie between a fridge magnet from the French police and a bag for life from the
French supermarket chain, Carrefour. Incredibly these were first time items from the caravan.

Mont Blanc

And again from Chamomix 

Astana rider makes his way up 

View on the climb home 

One of the bottles of water is put to good use

Romain Bardet takes a bottle from Jamie 

The Froome group comes through 

The view of the glacier from our spot on the climb

Evidence 

Rest Day Two - Enough Bern Already

Rest Day Two and back to that strange feeling of being on a normal holiday. A day spent in a very hot and very pleasant Bern, with a view of snow capped mountains in the distance but yet somewhere around 33 degrees in the city and we are ready to get back to the racing and the final five stages.

Breakfast was disappointing for a nice hotel like this but I was soon on the bike and heading towards one of the hotels near the finish of yesterday's stage where we knew that 3 teams, Lampre, Cannondale and Fortuneo were staying. Jamie and Gary were already there (and I suspect had been for some time) when I arrived. No sign of any riders but the mechanics and soigneurs were busy preparing the bikes for a rest day spin and giving everything a good wash and tidy up. After a bit of loitering by the team areas and then by the hotel, we decided to head out on a ride. The original plan was to try and ride behind one of the teams for a while but we came to the conclusion that we should just head out.

We ended up riding back through the city over the cobbles and the tram track death traps and out the other side towards a town called Aarborg. Bern doesn't really have suburbs, it's not big enough and very quickly we were out in the countryside and what stunning countryside it was. Views of the Alps on one side, lakes in the distance, lots of picture postcards villages (all with signs to sprint for) and miles of rolling fields. We went over a decent climb (eventually for me) and went back down the other side as far as a cafe in a small village.

The cafe owner, Gabriel spoke a multitude of languages, including English and was keen to tell of us of the time he lived in Haringey and South Tottenham which seemed to be a very very long way away from the tiny village he now had a cafe in. He asked about Brexit and when we first arrived he assumed we had ridden from London but he was lovely and it was a lovely stop. We went back over the climb and then came back a slightly different way but it was no less stunning. A lovely 30 mile ride.

By the time I had arrived back and got myself straight (OK, stopped sweating but you a. Didn't need to know that and b. Could probably have guessed) Chris was in town and we met up and had some lunch. This was followed by a quick pootle round the city and I dragged him to the club shop of the local football team Young Boys of Bern who play at the Wankdorf Stadium. I've now stood outside the Wankdorf and the Wankhede Stadium, the cricket ground in Mumbai, I wonder if there is a special club I can join now.

In the club shop I bought the most expensive football shirt that I have ever purchased (I am on holiday) but I should have apologised for the first two shirts that I tried on, after walking a mile and a half up a hill, with a rucksack on in the blazing sun...

There was one other incident in the club shop where my language confusion re-surfaced. When given the bag and my receipt, rather than delivering the very simple 'Danke' to say thanks, for some reason I said 'Good morning' at least it was in German. I think I was suffering from shock at the cost of the shirt.

We headed back into town and mooched around for the rest of the afternoon, had some dinner, Chris headed off because he had been up since 2:30 and the rest of us sat outside nursing a coke (they had beer) which is when we decided we were done with Bern now and wanted to move on.

The thing I've noticed most about the rest days is how much more you spend money, normally you don't have time for normal stuff like spending money because you are on the side of the road with limited things to spend money on. On the rest day you do which made a rest day in Switzerland even more painful. I really didn't notice it on the first day here but today it was if the prices of everything had shot up by 25%.

Obviously this is a blog about my Tour de France trip so I should mention cyclists but it was a quiet day, especially after we decided to get on and ride ourselves in the morning. I only saw one other team, Etixx Quick-step who were staying at the very nice Bellvue in the centre of town. I did see one their riders having dinner but I'm sorry to say he wasn't well known and I had no idea who he was. The only other spot was Tom Dumoulin of Team Giant and winner of two stages so far this year (hailstorm in Andorra and time trial) who was in a cafe with his wife and was left well alone though I may have stared a bit.

But tomorrow it all begins again. The stage starts in Bern and doesn't leave Switzerland, though the mountain top finish is very close to the border. Logistics play a part tomorrow so we are taking a long way round (via Geneva for those following this on a home made map) back into France, stopping in Chamonix and riding back over the border into Switzerland and up the HC climb, easy. Then it is all about the Alps and incredibly the final stage in Paris.

Stats Plaza
Miles driven - 2600
Miles cycled - 238
Cheese of the day - None again
Tat - a BMC clapper thing, rubbish.
Friendliest service of the day - Gabriel
Least friendliest service of the day - tapas cafe grump
Number of sprints I won for town signs - 3, though I don't count so these were all hollow victories but that didn't stop me celebrating one of them like I had one a stage.

Just an OK view 

Mountains and fields 

Bern looking alright

Just another stunning view 

Mountains from the city 

Yes, almost smiling 

More every day, run of the mill views