CYCLING THE TOUR DE FRANCE has been likened to running 20 marathons in 20 days. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t run one marathon in 20 days. Yet there I was, under the blistering sun of Provence, slowly pedaling my way up one of the most dreaded, soul-crushing climbs of last year’s Tour: Mont Ventoux.
What lured me to that beast of a hill was a longing to do more than just watch the Tour de France. I wanted to experience it.
I yearned to ride the very roads that, just hours later, would be chewed up by Lance Armstrong, Laurent Jalabert and Joseba Beloki.
I wanted to white-knuckle it down the same hairpin turns and be cheered on by the giddy spectators who had camped out for days, waiting for that colorful tsunami of Spandex to speed by.
Basically, I hungered for a taste of what the world’s most grueling sporting event really felt like.
That’s what landed me, my husband and 13 others on a Tour de France cycling trip with Backroads, an adventure travel company.
The plan was to follow the last third of the three-week race as the riders whizzed their way past the lavender fields of Provence, up the Alps, and down the cobblestoned Champs-Elyses in Paris.
Along the way, we would stay in four-star hotels, consume obscene amounts of French fare and work off those calories by cycling 40 to 60 miles a day (except during the trip’s three rest days). We’d bike some of the most memorable segments of previous Tour de France routes. Wealso would tackle short sections of last year’s course, a torturous 2,033-mile journey.
“How hard can this be?” I naively wondered as I sat on my couch, lazily thumbing through a Backroads catalog. “It’s not like we’re doing the whole Tour. Just part of it.”
But that “part” happened to be the part with the mountains. Big, colossal, mammoth mountains.
Even so, I saw this as a once-in-a-lifetime experience. If the prognosticators were right, I’d be witnessing Lance Armstrong pedal his way into the history books, becoming the first American ever to win four Tours.
I’d be right there, literally, on Armstrong’s road to victory.
I reassured myself: I’m 33 years old; I take spinning classes; I’ll be just as good as anyone else on the Backroads trip.
I knew I miscalculated that last part as soon as I got a glimpse of the other travelers. Most of the men’s legs were shaved closer than mine. Was there a disproportionate number of transvestites on the trip, or were these some serious cyclists?
It turned out to be the latter, which meant my husband and I were destined to play the role of lanterne rouge, the red lantern that hangs from the back of a train. It’s Tour-speak for “the slowpokes.”
But unlike the Tour, this was a vacation, not a competition. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I crawled up Mont Ventoux, which I think is French for “something that makes you curl up in a ball and cry for Mommy.”
The 6,266-foot mountain juts out of the Provenal landscape like a giant tumor; and this tumor is anything but benign. Comedian and cycling aficionado Robin Williams summed it up this way: “Even the mountain goats don’t like it.”
Ventoux is a relentlessly steep 13-mile climb to the barren, lunar-like summit, where exhausted British cyclist Tom Simpson keeled over and died during the 1967 Tour.
As I started to wonder if the same fate might await me, a burly Frenchman with a moustache as big as my handlebars decided I needed a little pep talk.
“Allez! Allez!” he shouted repeatedly in my ear as I crept up the mountain in granny gear.
My French friend was telling me to “Go! Go!” – which was what I wished he would do, since sweat was stinging my eyes, my legs felt like the beleaguered stage during “Riverdance,” and the last thing I wanted was a hairy cheerleader.
But his words pushed me on, if only to put a little more distance between myself and his burgundy-infused breath.
I would hear the “Allez! Allez!” refrain countless more times from the throngs of onlookers who had staked out their spot on the mountain, waiting for the Tour to wheel by in a few hours. Folks like me were merely the warm-up act.
The French are extremely adept at the high art of tailgating. When they weren’t rooting on amateur cyclists such as myself, they killed time by sipping wine, nibbling on brie and baguettes, playing cards and painting riders’ names on the street.
At my heady speed of 4 mph, I had ample time to witness all of these pre-race festivities. It became clear that, to the French, the Tour is much more than a sporting event. It is a cultural phenomenon.
And it is easy to understand the Tour’s appeal. This is a race packed with more drama than a Jerry Springer show – and at least as much potential for bloodshed. Catastrophic crashes. Drug raids. Cheating. Smack talking. Not to mention jaw-dropping displays of athleticism.
It’s hard to imagine just how much pain these guys put themselves through until you’ve sampled some of it.
Mont Ventoux is a kick-in-the-
teeth climb, even when you’re cycling it with fresh legs like we were.
But the Tour racers have logged 120 miles that day before broaching the base of Ventoux. And they still managed to go up it faster than I went down it. How’s that for an ego-deflater?
It truly is a humbling experience to watch more than 150 Tour riders sail up the very road you just cycled. They make it look so easy, but your burning quads and aching back remind you that it’s not.
I thought that cycling Ventoux would leave me too exhausted to cheer on the racers. But one glimpse of that Texan wearing the coveted yellow leader’s jersey had the effect of a dozen espressos.
There he was. Lance Armstrong – cancer survivor, cyclist extraordinaire – about an arm’s length away from me, plowing up the very mountain that made my legs feel like overcooked fettuccine.
Despite being chased by a pack of cyclists who wanted nothing more than to strip that golden jersey off his back and feed it to him in tiny pieces, he looked more serene than I do in a bubble bath.
Other racers gulped oxygen like a frat boy chugs beer. But Armstrong seemed to be barely breathing while he pumped his pedals like pistons. I knew I was watching an ber-athlete in action.
I had a front-row seat at the Tour de Lance, and I’d earned it.
At the top of my overworked lungs, I shouted the words I had once heard from a wise, mustachioed Frenchman: “Allez! Allez!”
Lorilyn Rackl is a freelance writer who lives in Chicago.
—————————————-
IF YOU GO
Getting there: The easiest way to cycle along with the Tour de France is to book a trip with a travel company. This way you don’t have to worry about plotting the route, transporting your luggage, booking hotels and figuring out the best places to view the race. And you’ll have on-the-road support in case your bike breaks down or you need a water-bottle refill.
The Tour lasts three weeks, but outfitters generally run shorter trips that shadow different stages – usually mountain stages – of the race. Most travelers fly into Paris and take a train, plane or car to the city in which their trip originates.
Keep in mind that this year’s trips are going to be in big demand. It’s the 100th anniversary of the Tour de France – July 5-27 – and Lance Armstrong will be trying to tie the record for five consecutive Tour victories.
Cost and length: Tour de France cycling trips, like the race, take place in July. Many of the package vacations last from four to 12 days, with varying degrees of difficulty.
On most cycling days, expect to bike between 30 and 60 miles. Routes might be considerably shorter if the terrain is particularly steep. You usually have the option of adding or subtracting miles depending on how you feel.
Backroads has 10 Tour trips this year. They range from six to eight days and cost between $2,598 and $4,198, which covers lodging and most meals but not airfare.
Tour de France cycling trips with other travel companies can cost as little as $795 for VeloSport Vacation’s “on your own” five-day excursion, to $8,775 for Trek Travel’s deluxe nine-day trip that includes tickets to the Rolling Stones concert in Paris. Outfitters generally charge extra for bike rental and if you’re not sharing a hotel room.
Outfitters: These are some of the outfitters offering Tour de France cycling trips:
Backroads, 800-462-2848, www.backroads.com.
VeloSport Vacations, 800-988-9833, www.velovacations.com.
Butterfield & Robinson, 800-678-1147, www.butterfield.com.
Trek Travel, 866-464-8735, www.trektravel.com.
