Le Tour de France: Getting There

I started watching the Tour de France on TV in college as a casual cycling fan. At the time, I was not a cyclist myself but the mental and physical stamina the bikers must have to ride so far and so fast for three weeks straight combined with the stunning scenery the Tour passed through drew me in. It was not my plan wen I left home to catch the Tour, but circumstances aligned where my path would come close to intercepting with their route, so as often happens, my plans changed.

After landing in Bordeaux, perhaps one of the most famous wine regions in the world, I rented a bike, loaded it with newly purchased camping gear and set off on my own tour, 140 kilometers (87 miles) towards the town of Bergerac where I would have the fortune of seeing the third-to-last and second-to-last stages. 

Having never been to France or done a cycling tour before, I learned a few things pretty quick: with a sturdy frame and loaded with gear, the heavy bike would be slow going; I could barely say "please" and " thank you" in French and the locals were in no mood to humor me; there were going to be a lot of hills. Mostly, this would be way tougher than anticipated.

(I was actually pretty embarrassed by my lack of French vocabulary and butchered pronunciation. At times, I felt like a complete ass.)

The first 35 miles were on a dedicated bike path from Bordeaux to the town of Sauveterre-de-Guyenne where I would then take country roads.

The path followed an old train route and went through this long, cool tunnel.

I had planned to get all the way to the to the Tour route on day one, however steep hills and windy country roads changed my overly ambitious plan. And while the hills were extremely difficult in the intense heat and humidity, the countryside more than made up for it. I ended up camping in a small town called Duras, at a private campground owned by a British expat.

After 57 miles I was ready for a beer and some sleep! But sleep was put on hold for the town market which just happened to be going on the one night I was there!

Got some awesome food and a cheap bottle of wine, managing to order by pointing, giving the vendors a big smile, and saying "thank you" as sincerely as I felt it.

After passing out in my tent, I still had about 30 miles to go to Bergerac the next day for the Tour!

The humidity was worse than the day before and I set off from camp around 9 am. Thunder rumbled in the distance, each time a little louder and lower than before. I stopped for a pastry in a small country town and just as I walked out the door of the shop, heavy, big rain drops began to fall. Seeking shelter under an overhang across a narrow alley, it quickly turned into a torrential downpour, thunder and lightning intensifying and striking very close by. Completely unprepared for the rain (no tarps for my gear, not even a rain jacket), I waited it out with a couple pastries.

After a 45 minute soaking, I waited 15 more minutes after I last heard thunder and headed out again during a break in the rain. Just a few minutes in, it began to rain again, though with much less ferocity than it had before. I stayed alert for lightning though I never saw anything but quick flashes, now distant with the moving front, though I still rode as hard as I possibly could, pointed for Bergerac.

Several rainy hours later, I pulled into the municipal campground soaked through. Greeted by the camp host's head shaking at my lack of French I set up my tent under a tree in the playground, the only area that wasn't completely muddy after the squal. 

Despite the difficulty in getting to

Bergerac, the last mile of my journey was along the Tour de France route, with motorhomes and fans lining the course hours ahead of the cyclists arrival, it was just the push I needed to make it in.

A rainy fork in the road...

In the four hours it took to make the 30 some odd miles (super slow with the rain and hills), the Tour was now only a few hours from reaching town and my day was just about to get started!