Cycling in Paris part 3

When we set off from the hotel on our bikes, it was seven-thirty in the
morning. Paris was deserted at this time on a Sunday. It was a dull day
weather-wise, but to me, the sun was shining and all was well in the world. As
we cycled in through quiet streets, the number of cyclists in yellow jerseys
increased as we got near to the Parc du Champ de Mars. We turned a corner and
suddenly there were thousands of us! It was a sea of yellow congregating at the
base of the Tour Eiffel. A sea full of different nationalities, ages and
genders, but all with one thing in common, a love of cycling. There was also a
palpable growing excitement in the air as the start of the event drew nearer.
Voices were chattering and I could pick out English voices, French (lots of
those), German, Italian, American (lots of those too) and Chinese. What a mix
of friendly voices! It turned out that Vernon, Nathan and I managed to get our
place in the mass start to be just at the base of the Tour Eiffel. The sea of
yellow jerseys stretched all the way back round the sides of the Parc du Champs
de Mars to the Ecole Militaire. All along the side of the sea of yellow,
motorcycles with TV cameramen on them went by, with the sea of yellow giving up
a cheer every time one was spotted. Radio and television presenters with
microphones were asking people where they had come from. I managed a
"L'Angleterre! Norfolk!"

Then the final countdown came and we were off! Slowly at first, but soon
gathering speed we crossed the start line and set off on a 30 kilometre closed
stage around Paris. The very same stage that later in the day would see Lance
Armstrong confirm his fifth consecutive victory of the Tour. It went so fast.
But not as fast as Nathan, who sped off into the distance, inspired I am sure,
by having watched Tyler Hamilton daily on each stage of the Tour. I wasn't
worried by his speeding off, as we'd agreed a meeting point at the end of the
Randonnée. Vernon and I cycled together round the stage. This was turning out
to be the way to see Paris. Cycling round the sights on closed roads, with
crowds starting to line the route in readiness for the main event later in the
day. Some in the crowd cheered us on and children waved. Even the gendarmes
lining the route would smile, wave and occasionally cheer us along. We cycled
by the Louvre, the Palais de Chaillot, and the Place de la Concorde; up the
entire length of the cobbles of the Champs Elysées to the L'Arc de Triomphe
and back down the cobbles of the other side. From the base of the Champs
Elysées it looks a steep, juddery and long climb up the L'Arc de Triomphe and
indeed it was. But it was a magnificent sight to see the entire length, up and
down, a mass of yellow jerseys, each one an amateur rider enjoying the
occasion, the spectacle and the taking part. Especially so as even at this
early hour the sides of the Champs Elysées were already filling up with people
claiming prize positions from which to view the afternoon's main event. As we
headed back towards the Tour Eiffel, we turned a corner to head along the banks
of the Seine. On this corner, a lady gendarme called out "Courage Madame,
courage!" As I got round the corner to cycle alongside the Seine, I discovered
why she might have been calling out to me. At close regular intervals along the
roadside trees were planted. Each one of these trees had male cyclists stood
next to them, each taking a pee… I wondered if there was some strange ritual
going on over and above the simple need to have a pee, as so many men were,
well, doing it, but if there was, it was a ritual I declined to take a personal
part in.

A final crossing of the Seine via the Pont d'Lena, back to the foot of the Tour
Eiffel brought Vernon and I to the finish line of the Randonnée. Thirty
kilometres had gone so quickly. It was only an hour earlier we'd begun the
ride. At the finish line was a surprise. Jean Marie Leblanc, the main man of
the Tour, was there, greeting participants as they crossed the finish line. He
was chatting away to people as they went by him. As Vernon and I went by, we
both thanked him for the event. I spoke to him in French, thanking him for
putting on such a lovely event. He responded by asking where I was from, and
when I told him, again in French, that I was from England, he said, "Enchanté,
Madame and thank you for speaking to me in my own language. I appreciate this."
You could have knocked me down with a feather. Here was god, as far as the Tour
is concerned, Le Grand Fromage himself, giving me a compliment for speaking to
him in French. Vernon says there's not much that can render me speechless, but
this was one of those rare events.

After being swept along by the mass of cyclists coming to the end of the
Randonnée stage and past Le Grand Fromage, we were funnelled back round the
Parc du Champ de Mars to the front of the Ecole Militaire. Event helpers handed
each participant a plastic bag of food and drink. Vernon and I got ours and
headed over to the place by the previous day's "village" entrance a few yards
away, which was the designated meeting point for Nathan. The food bags
contained a can of Coke, a bag of jelly sweets, a pain au chocolat and a small
Camembert cheese in the shape of a heart.

Whilst we waited for Nathan, a couple of guys came up to Vernon and I and one
said, "Excuse me, are you Helen?" Out of ten thousand cyclists all in yellow
jerseys, a total stranger had just come up to me and asked if I was the person
he thought I was - and he was right! The total stranger turned out to be Rob
(The Tall Bloke) from an Internet cycling group I subscribe to. He recognised
me from my description of my bike. He then went on to say, "You're not as fat
as you say you are." Of course, as soon as he said that, I immediately decided
he was a nice man, but obviously in need of having his eyesight checked.
Introductions made "Vernon, meet Rob The Tall Bloke from the Internet group"
and "Rob, this is Vernon my husband." I managed to get a lady to take a group
picture of us all, which is now another adorning my computer. After chatting
for a while and promising to send Rob a scanned copy of the picture we'd had
taken, we parted company. Vernon and I then set about looking for Nathan, who
hadn't yet turned up at the meeting point. I stayed at the meeting point whilst
Vernon wandered off into the crowd to see if he could find Nathan. He did as
the pair of them soon wandered back over to where I was standing. Nathan had
been doing what any growing teenager would do in that he had been waiting over
where the food bags were being given out, probably with a view to getting more
food whilst trying to spot his parents.

We rested here a while, munching our rations and watched the crowd of cyclists
who had, like us, completed a very enjoyable event. Friends were meeting up and
sharing stories of their experience of the morning. Group pictures were being
taken, with cyclists getting their friends to take photos of them holding their
bikes aloft with the Tour Eiffel forming the backdrop. And all going on in a
multitude of languages. I was content to soak up the atmosphere of the morning.
It was quite magical and unique. It was something I'll not have the chance to
do again, after all, it's only once the Tour centenary happens and I didn't
want to miss a second of it. I wanted it all to sink in and never be forgotten.
I wanted every single image to be imprinted on my brain and every smell in the
air to be remembered now to evoke future memories in the years to come. A
thought came to me at this point. London is putting in a bid to host the Tour
prologue and first stage in a few years time. I hope Ken Livingstone can pull
it off. It would be wonderful for cycling in the UK and it would be even more
wonderful if there could be a London Randonnée as part of the celebrations
then. I made a mental note of, "Must write to Ken Livingstone about this."

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Mail sent to it is dumped
My correct one can be gleaned from
h*$el***$$n*$d$ot$**s**i$$m*$m$**on**$s$@*$$a**$*o l*$*.*$$c$om*$
by getting rid of the overdependence on money and fame
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