Tour de France, Day 10

After more than 3 weeks of hard racing, the first half of the final stage into Paris is really little more than a procession - a chance for the riders to enjoy their spoils, safe in the knowledge that they can put their feet up for a few days. As the boys get closer to Paris, however, the race heats up. Sure, the general classification is very, very rarely decided on the last day, but there's been more than one occasion when Aussies have sprinted down the cobbles of the Champs-Élysées to claim the green jersey.

So, armed with this knowledge, we wandered up to our seats under an unsettled sky, safe in the knowledge Armstrong should come away in yellow, but quietly hoping Robbie McEwen might manage to grab green on the line. Through Bikestyle's contacts we'd managed to secure some seats on the finishing straight about 250 m from the line. Not a bad spot considering Paris was an absolute madhouse and the crowd was 4 or 5 people deep along the length of the Champs-Élysées.

While we didn't know it at the time, the overall classification was officially decided before we had even set eyes on the riders from our vantage point. Due to the changeable weather, the powers that be had effectively stopped the clock before the riders hit the cobblestones in order to reduce the likelihood of a pile-up in the race for the line. I'm still not sure if points were on for the sprinters in the race for the green jersey, but in the end, it didn't really matter. Ever-attacking Vino out-foxed everyone with 500 m to go and comfortably claimed the stage victory ahead of the out-and-out sprinters.

In the end, it was Rasmussen in the polka dots, Hushovd in green and a man named Armstrong in yellow. Seven times straight is an incredible achievement and there's been much speculation since Armstrong's retirement on whether anyone will repeat such a feat. There's been plenty of chat, too, on whether he'd beat a Merckx or a Hinault while at their best. In the end though, who cares? Armstrong's story is his own. It's the stuff of sporting folklore.

Kristi and Pete on the Champs-Elysees.

The crowd waits.

Here they come.

And off they go!

And back they come (I'm getting dizzy now).

Rabobank celebrate.

The King (of the Mountains) enjoying his spoils.

T-Mobile thanks the crowd.

Jan's still smiling.

Discovery take their applause.

Armstrong gets thanks from all around.

It doesn't take long for the party to start.

Landis looking for a way out.

Basso looking pleased with his efforts.

Popovych, the best young rider.

Will his record ever be beaten?

Sunset on Paris.

Tour de France, Day 9

Even though the Tour had one more stage to go, stage 20 marked the end of racing for the general classification, and offered Armstrong one last chance to take a stage in his final trip round France.

Having opted against a ride, we instead headed straight for Saint-Etienne - the start and finish of the final individual time trial. After watching a few of the slower few riders set off for their 55km race against the clock, I took some of the unofficial advice proffered by those in the know in our tour group.

Normally, the Gendarmes ensure that you've got to have just the right security pass in order to get close to the riders before the start of a stage, but on the day of a TT, there's a lot of people coming and going all day long. So, if you're feeling confident and the boys in blue are looking the other way, it's not too hard to jump the fence and take a closer look. Once you're inside, all you have to do is look like you belong there and you're set!

After getting dragged into a press photographer scrum when Lance turned up to visit Sheryl and his kids, I thought better of it and decided it was time to secure a good vantage spot to watch the race unfold. Thankfully, Pete had already wedged himself against the barrier about 100 m from the finish line. With some deft footwork, then, I too got myself in a prime spot.

If you followed the race at all, then you'll know that today was the day that Rasmussen lost 3rd place in the GC (courtesy of what seemed a countless number of crashes, mechanical issues and flat tyres). It was also the day that Ullrich showed the world he is still an incredible rider by setting what was, at the time, (though not by the end of the day) the fastest time on the course. More importantly, though, it was the day Armstrong clinched his first stage victory of this year's race and his 7th straight Tour de France title.

If you didn't follow the race, well, you missed part of cycling history.

Jolly pink Giants.

The world watches on.

Last minute checks.

Sheryl Crow taking happy snaps of Johan Buyneel and John Kerry.

Lance, the kids and Sheryl.

Tania and the Devil.

The start ramp.

Brad McGee on the way to the start.

Jan Ullrich on his way to claiming a spot on the podium.

Armstrong amongst the security guards.

Looking relaxed.

The finish line.

The crowd watches as Rasmussen loses third place in the GC.

The final corner.

Rogers in World Champion colours.

Here comes Dad.

On his way to stage victory and 7th Tour de France win.

The winning time: 1:11:46.

Just one last formality.

Tour de France, Day 8

The Bikestyle gang did a great job of making sure we saw plenty of the race. Today was no exception. The plan: Grab the bus to the start of Stage 19, snap some paparazzi-style photos of the riders as they get ready for the day's racing, then sneak in a climb up the Puy do Dôme in the afternoon. As it turned out, we didn't make it on to our bikes as the Puy du Dôme was closed to cyclists. Still, we had a great opportunity to see some of the riders up close and relaxed before the start line.

Interesting Tour de France fact: The start line isn't really the start line. It's the départ fictif. To prevent the potential carnage of a standing start, the race doesn't start in earnest until the départ réel. This is normally a few kilometres down the road and once the riders have got up a reasonable speed. It's kinda like a rolling start in motor sport.

The start at Issoire.

Obsessed? Much?

So, Vino, do you plan on attacking today?

Jan, don't you think the pink jersey is, well, a bit girly?

Which way to the start?

Oh, it's over there.

Thor Hushovd wearing green.

Baden and Brad. Go Aussies!

Hey Stewie!

Over here, Robbie.

Time out for the fans.

And on to the start line.

And they're away.

Tour de France, Day 7

Another day, another ride. This time, we caught the riders as they slowed (but only ever so slightly) during the feed zone on stage 18. Like yesterday, we rode along the course ahead of the caravan so were in position with plenty of time to spare.

If you've ever wondered how these guys can stay out on the road for 5 or 6 hours a day without collapsing in a heap, then nutrition (that, along with incredible fitness) has got a lot to do with it. During the tour, the riders need to eat, eat and eat. They churn through more calories per day than climbers summitting Everest. And they do it for 3 weeks on end. And they do it in the middle of just about every stage without hardly slowing down.

For example, on today's stage, a stretch of road 1 or 2 kilometres long was designated as the feed zone. Team cars park alongside the road in this stretch and get take-away lunches prepared for the riders. Then when the race approaches, riders pick out their support crew and grab a bag (musette) filled with food and a couple of water bottles.

A surprisingly large number of fans hang around these feed zones. Why? Free stuff. You see, once the riders pick up their lunch for the day, they throw out their used water bottles, or the food they don't feel like eating, or the bag that carried it all. And don't the fans love it. Mums and Dads fight over an energy bar while kids push other kids out of the way just to get a domestique's phlegm-filled water bottle. And they say the French are rude. They're just really suckers for free stuff.

Don't mess with these guys.

Funny hats are what tourists do best.

But I'm not the only one looking silly.

Is that Sheryl and Lance?

Team cars getting set up.

Lunch, anyone?

Do you want fries with that?

Here they come.

Eat in or take-away? Take-away.

What are you having for lunch? Want to trade?

And away they go.

Tour de France, Day 6

We left the mountains behind today for what was described as a flat stage (note to self, flat doesn't really mean flat, it just means not as bloody high as the Pyrenees).

Still feeling solid after 3 days in the mountains, I opted for an a ride that covered the last 80km of the course into the town of Revel. We were again greeted by perfect conditions and typical French country-side, farmhouses, small towns, sunflowers and rolling hills. It was up and down the whole way, not unlike the rolling hills between Samford to Dayboro (for the Brisbane readers out there). And then with 10 km to go, the organisers put in a Cat 3 climb just to make you hurt a bit.

Having arrived in Revel a few hours ahread of the race, we had time to drop our bikes back at the bus, grab some lunch, a beer and find a good spot to watch the sprint to the line.

Sunflowers on the road to Revel

The finish of Stage 17.

That's a mighty big bus.

And look, it's Sheryl Crow, just hanging around.

Meanwhile, Pete is all set for the race finish.

Arvesen, Savoldelli and Hinault with 400m to go.

Sevilla only a few spots further back.

Armstrong might have come in 22 minutes back, but so did Basso, Rasmussen and Ullrich.

And the yellow jersey goes to...

Tour de France, Day 5

After the conquering the Col du Tourmalet the day before, I was keen to tackle yet more mountains. Sure, the legs were a bit heavy, but they were still feeling strong. What made today better, was that this time, there was a race to watch.

We decided to ride an 80km round trip from our hotel in Lourdes in order to intercept the race as it rolled across the last two serious peaks of the tour: the Col d'Aubisque (another Hors Categorie climb) and the Col du Soulor. Our ride had us meet the race route at the Soulor, then ride against the direction of the race to the Aubisque and then back to the Soulor for a well earned rest stop.

For me, this was the most spectacular day on the trip - great weather, lush green valleys surrounded by snow capped peaks, narrow roads cut into the side of mountains and tunnels gorged out of the rock. If you've ever watched the coverage of the Tour on TV and were wowed by the scenery, today, we were riding it in.

Like 2 days ago, the fans were out in force, even at a mountain top with nothing more than a restaurant the serves skiers during the winter and the odd hiker during the summer. Unlike 2 days ago, this time, the Aussies had something to cheer about. Cadel Evans led a small bunch over the course and later that day went on to claim nearly 3 and a half minutes on the peloton by the end of the stage. Hard riding today saw him move into the top 10 in the GC.

Let's roll!

Pete and I on the way to the Soulor.

Al, me, Doug, Tania, Pete and Jon heading upwards.

Not a bad view.

First climb of the day over and done with.

And it's on to the next one.

Col d'Aubisque in the bag.

Emerging from the tunnel between Col d'Aubsique and Col du Soulor.

A well deserved food stop.

I just don't think the views were quite spectacular enough!

A Basso fan makes his mark.

Could there be a better place to watch the race?

There's a few of us up here.

Terry cheering Cadel on.

Watch out for the chopper.

And here they come.

It's Cadel Evans out in front.

And he's working for it.

Armstrong's group is not far behind.

And he's looking composed.

The bunch trickles through behind them.

And it's hard work just to hold on.

Tour de France, Day 4

The 4th day of our trip corresponded to the 2nd rest day for the tour's riders - lazy buggers.

With no race to watch, we had our pick of a number of classic climbs in the Pyrenees that this year's race didn't happen to include. Ever the suckers for punishment, Pete and I opted for the daddy of them all, the Col du Tourmalet. With a climb of over 17 km at an average gradient in excess of 7% it made for a good day out. Oh, and did I say it was 2115m high? That's only 100m or so below the summit of Mount Kosciusko. Bring it on!

Training for climbs like this is next to impossible in Australia or Scotland. Not that I was out training much at all before the trip, but training for big climbs is tough. The advice we were given: "Just take it at your own pace. Don't try to keep on someone's wheel, you'll only blow up if you do." So, when we hit the base of the climb proper, I was happy to slip the chain into 39x27 and take it at my own pace.

Now, some people like them, and some people don't, but the French are good at signposting climbs for cyclists. Every kilometre we were greeted by a sign informing us just how steep the next stretch of road was, what our altitude was and how much further we had until the summit. For me, it helped, knowing that with each sign I was one step closer to the summit, but I could imagine that when you're not feeling too flash, they're just a reminder of how little you've come so far!

So, when we passed the 17th of those signs, I knew I'd made it. Pete was still looking solid and we hit the summit side by side. It was time, then, for some happy snaps and a quick freshen up at the restaurant before enjoying the 50km of downhill to come. Oooh, yeah.

The weather didn't seem that bad at the time. Maybe I was distracted by the 17km of climbing still to go.

Keep on going.

The summit's up there somewhere.

Pete at the summit of the Col du Tourmalet.

I made it!

Let's head inside for a while.

Time for a drink.

There's only one way down.

And off I go.

See you at the bottom!

Tour de France, Day 3

After the some serious time on the bus yesterday, everyone was keen to get out on their bikes and tackle some serious hills today. The plan was to ride the last 40 km of Stage 15, taking in the final 2 climbs, Col de Val Louron-Azet and Saint-Lary-Soulan (Pla d'Adet).

We set off reasonably early as we were riding along the route of the course and had to stay well ahead of the publicity caravan and the race itself. The Tour organisers are a force to be reckoned with and if you don't keep in front of the rolling road closures, you can get stuck for a good 3 hours.

With a clear sky, plenty of enthusiasm and a more than a fair share of adrenaline, we set off and before long we were at the base of a decent climb. I say decent in sense that it was nearly 3 times the length of Mt Coot-tha and just as steep. At this point, I was glad I'd swapped out my cassette for a 12-27. I'd be needing those extra teeth in the coming days.

40 minutes later I'd topped out over a Category 1 climb and had a long sweet decent before pushing on to a Hors Categorie climb (literally, beyond category). Thankfully, we ended up stopping short of the summit of the Pla d'Adet and found a good place to watch the race go by.

It's the publicity caravan proceeds the riders, normally by about an hour. Think the Ekka on wheels. Think random free stuff you'll never, ever use again. But, hey, when they're giving it away for nothing... suddenly nothing seems as precious as a plastic keyring from a company you've never heard of or a novelty hat 3 sizes too small.

Soon enough though, you can hear (and then see) the television choppers that follow the riders from start to finish. A minute or two later it's cars and horns and motorbikes and officials and announcements in French that you can't understand and whoosh and man, they are really moving (even on a climb like this after having already ridden 200km)! It turned out to be a small group consisting of Pereiro, Boogerd and Hincapie (Hincapie would soon go on to claim the stage). Not far back though, and it was the bigger names: Armstrong, Basso, Ullrich, Rasmussen. Then, a pause for a few minutes, and then a hundred or so riders clinging together to just make it to the top.

Because the finish was at the summit of a mountain, with only one road up and the same road back down, it wasn't long before some of the riders started decending the way they had come. First it was Ullrich, in black, flying past. Then more. Then more still. We were already doing the same, heading back to the bus, but the pros sliced their way amongst the thousands of fans - darting around kids on mountain bikes, past Mums and Dads with pet dogs, beside crazy Basque fans pushing shopping trolleys, in between the drunk Germans and Dutch. In was in that simple, casual ride back down the Pla d'Adet that I gained a newfound respect for the bike-handling abilities of these riders. If they descend like that after the race was over, I couldn't imagine how quickly they decended in the heat of battle.

Unloading for our first ride in the Pyrenees.

One climb (Col de Val-Louron-Azet).

One descent.

And one more climb (Pla d'Adet) to go!

Time to stop and fetch some more water.

And then settle in to watch the race go by.

Meanwhile, the locals kept an eye on proceedings.

Here comes the caravan!

Novelty cars are our specialty.

Ahh, water.

Even better, free beer!

Oh, it's non-alcoholic.

Thumbs up, Pete!

First riders through: Pereiro, Boogerd and Hincapie.

Armstrong and Basso.

Armstrong in yellow and in control.

Ullrich a little further back.

Rasmussen on his tail.

Vino in there fighting.

Go Aussie! Allan Davis working hard.

Moreau doing his bit for the French fans.

And here comes the bunch.

Tour de France, Day 2

Today, I realised that keeping up with the race was going to take a bit of effort... even on a bus.

The Tour de France is called that because, well, it's a tour of France. And today the race was in the Pyrenees and we, well, we were still in Paris. So, along with the masses of Dutch, German and French holiday-makers, we set out on a road trip that would end 13 hours later in Lourdes.

With a bus like this, what could possibly go wrong?

Well, we could always lose a tyre.

At least we can watch the race on TV while we wait.

Tour de France, Day 1

Day 1 started early. Very early. Ever since missing a flight to Oslo a month or so ago, I've been strict about getting to the airport in plenty of time. And with an extra 20kg of oddly shaped bike luggage, I made sure I set off nice and early. Thankfully the check-in staff didn't even put my bike box on the scales. In due course I arrived in Paris, collected my bags, got met at the airport by the Bikestyle crew and checked-in at the hotel.

Pete arrived a little later and after a few 'ut-da-da-da-da-to-see-ays' for old time's sake, we put our bikes together and went for a roll around Paris. Dear God. If you've ever driven on the wrong side of the road, then you'll know the mild sense of panic you get when, after looking in what you think is the right direction, a car appears as if from nowhere and then misses you by just millimetres. Imagine that while riding on a bike... amongst peak-hour Parisien drivers... without a map... and on a round-a-bout circling in the wrong freakin direction.

Still, I'm here to write this entry, so it can't have been all bad and after eventually finding our way, we tucked into a welcome dinner and got set for the rest of the trip.

"I think the hotel's back that way."

Eiffel Tower at night.

Corporate Touch Football

Somehow, a little visit to Newcastle to catch up with friends and family involved playing 5 games of touch football for my ex-employer!

Cheer squad.

Susie, with ball in hand.

Rucking up the middle.

Look at that defensive line!

Try time!

Coaching squad.

Richard with a burst of speed.

How many games do we have to play?

He's away!

Post game debrief.

The team.

Hadrian's Wall

Karen, at Houseteads Roman Fort.

Hadrian's Wall.

Ruins of Roman column.

Ruins.

The locals.