L'étape Assassine: 100 Years Of The French Pyrénées

This year, The Tour de France is celebrating 100 years in the Pyrenees - and we are commemorating the anniversary by cycling up a few summits and cheering on the peleton.

Our homebase for our Pyrenees adventure is Bagneres-de-Luchon, locally known as Luchon. It is a popular resort town for skiing in the winter and cycling in the summer. Located between two cols, it is a prime location for summitting some of the most famous mountains in the range. It is because of this location that Luchon is famous for hosting the departures and arrivals of 52 Tour stages since the race's first stop in the Pyrenees in 1910.

This year, Luchon hosted both the arrival of yesteray's stage 15 and the departure for today's stage 16 - two epic mountain climb stages of this year's tour. We were lucky enough to book our hotel last October because this town is absolutely packed with cycling fans, tour staff and press.

We are staying at Villa Florida - a beautiful three-story chalet a few minutes from the main boulevard in town. It is run by a wonderful French couple who opened the Inn five years ago after moving to the mountains from Paris. They are both experts in Tour viewing (the tour has stopped here every year since they opened the hotel) and jam-making (breakfasts are wonderful!).

Our room is beautiful. Another good choice. We have hardwood floors, a large bed, and five floor-to-ceiling windows that open to a large balcony on the front of the house. And it's steps away from the Tour activities and the bars and restaurants of downtown.




We love Luchon - it's a paradise for people who love the mountains and the outdoors. Looking down every street you see the tall peaks of the Pyrenees surrounding the town. And every direction out of town heads up up up into the hills.



And so yesterday, that's what we did. We got on our bikes (after picking up baguette sandwiches from town) and headed up up up a massive climb to the summit of Port de Balès - a dreaded summit finish of Stage 15.

It was incredible and just the type of ride that I've been training for the last year. We started at the Stage finish line, rolling down the main boulevard of town and under the 1K banner and headed out of town. The moment we left town the steep pitches began and we dug in for the ascent. I was nervous, but determined to make the climb out of Luchon to the summit of Port de Bales. I approached the ride as training for Thursday's climb of Tourmalet.

The beginning of the 12-mile climb was through the trees and then we emerged into a wide open valley. Small villages dotted the road ahead. And one by one we climbed our way past the stone buildings, churches, narrow alleyways and up and up the side of the mountain. About an hour into the ride, we passed the last town on the way up and took a sharp hairpin turn and the road got insanely steep. Groups of fans cheered us on "Allez Allez!!" and we kept pedaling hard. We were above the treeline now. Switchback after switchback. I kept thinking about how the riders would come bombing down this way in a few hours at 100km an hour. Nuts.

I was feeling great, my legs were okay, I pushed hard up a couple very steep parts, passing a lot of other riders along the way. Dave kept telling me how proud he was of me, but I wasn't ready to celebrate yet. Then we saw a sign. 3km to the summit! Almost there. We came around another tight turn and everywhere you looked on the ridges you could see people, cars, RVs - the summit was near. And then the final push to the banner on the horizon. I pulled out everything I had and sprinted up that final pitch to the finish line. I made it! One hour, 45 mins and I didn't stop once. Averaged 7 mph and climbed the entire way. OUCH. I shed a few tears, hugged Dave and took some pictures of us under the banner.



And then we looked around. Thousand of fans, bicycles, RVs, beer stands, food stands - the summit was a circus. A really awesome Tour de France circus. I can't tell you how awesome it felt to be up there - feeling on top of the world after just climbing that mountain and being surrounded by thousands of people who are as passionate about the Tour as we are. We're so totally hooked.






We worked our way down the other side a few hundred feet from the summit where we could see the finish of the climb and look down behind us to see where the riders would start snaking up. And then we waited. Eating our sandwiches and fresh fruit and making friends with people around us.

Our first friend was another American from Houston. He seemed very normal, and we had a nice conversation with him. Later on in the day, when the peleton arrived - this very normal guy stripped down to a red king of the mountain polkadot string bikini brief, and nothing else but a black wig and an American flag worn as a cape. He ran down beside us as the riders arrived so we could have an American group. At least we knew that he'd attract cameras and we'd have a better chance of getting on TV! On a side note, we asked him where he got the bikini and apparently his wife made it for him. His wife who wasnt there with him to witness what the rest of us had to endure!



So, we were waiting. First a few trucks of "free stuff" arrived and the crowd went nuts on the vans wanting stuff and more stuff. The amount of junk that was thrown at us was amazing. T-shirts, jerseys, hats, bandanas, food. Dave just kept filling his backpack with more and more freebies. They managed to clothe the entire summit in polka dot gear.

And then the caravan arrived to entertain the crowd. It's amazing how these drivers can steer giant trucks shaped like chickens and water bottles up these hairpin turns. I know I wouldn't want to be behind the wheel. But they arrived, music blaring, girls dancing and more free stuff being tossed to the anxious crowd.

After a few hours of waiting, we heard the helicopters get closer. There was an excitement growing around us. Groups began bursting into song - showing their French or Spanish pride. We even contributed to a round of God Bless America with our friend in the bikini.

And then the helicoptor came roaring around the canyon far beneath us and we saw the double motorcycles that signal the first rider. And then a lone rider in the distance. It was crazy, we could see the speck down below us, but couldn't see who the rider was until 5-10 mins later when he arrived close to the summit.

Being on the summit was an amazing experience. We waved our flag like crazy and were right up close and personal along the riders. As Dave said at one point, in what other sport can you run along side the atheletes, so close that you can touch them, after they have already been suffering on the roads for hours and hours. The passion for the Tour around the world is just incredible to witness.





It took about 40 mins for all of the cyclists to pass and then the crowd started to disperse. Without going into too much detail, let me just tell you that descending down the mountain, along with thousands of cyclists, cars and people on foot is a million times more difficult than climbing up. My hands were killing me by the end, as I was gripping the breaks for dear life. I have a greater appreciation for these cyclists than ever. Now when I see them powering down those hills, making those tight turns, my heart skips a beat for them. It's scarier than it looks on TV.

We got back into town that evening and relaxed in our room for a little while - recovering from the sun and scrubing the bike grease off our legs. I felt like we accomplished a lot that day. We cleaned up, changed, and headed out for a late dinner in town. Then came home and passed out for the night.

We didn't get enough sleep though, because we were up bright and early today to catch the Tour departure from town. The alarm went off at 6:30 and we were at breakfast at 7 a.m. Our hostess got up early to make breakfast for all of us heading out to see the start of the Tour today.

Dave and I were some of the first out by the start, so we got to pick a prime position directly across the podium by the start line. And, as we have become accustomed to, we waited for hours for the day to start. We had an ideal location for more free stuff and we also made friends with a lot of the announcers who got a kick out of our American flag on display. We saw the press come through (including our new friend from Bicycling Magazine who stopped to talk with us again). And after the crazy caravan came by, the riders started to appear to sign in for the day. One by one we cheered their names and waved our flag to welcome them to the day. It was a fun few hours. By 10:30, the 100+ riders were lined up in front of us, the TV cameras hovering all around and the horn sounded for the start of the day. And they were off! My heart went out to them as they rolled out of town to begin what was destined to be an epic Stage - four massive mountain climbs over 200km of road. We were ready to see some fireworks out there.







Now, Dave just headed out for a 45-mile ride up the back side of Port de Bales and I'm relaxing in the room watching Lance master the climbs in Stage 16. He may not podium during his last tour, but he's definitely showing us all that he has still got it. His climbs today were a great way to close a legendary career.

I'm off for a run before Dave gets back. And then no more Tour until Thursday morning. This afternoon and tomorrow we plan to do some exploring of our own of the beautiful Pyrenees. Then Tourmalet looms on Thursday.

The Rich, the Topless and the Sunburnt

Dave and I just spent a lovely two days on a vacation within a vacation on the Cote d’Azur – sunbathing, relaxing, people watching and eating very well.

The French Riviera is a series of chic cities that line the Southern shores of France along the Mediterranean Sea. It starts with Monte Carlo in Monaco to the north, followed to the Southwest by Nice, Antibes, Cannes and St. Tropez. We chose to stay in Antibes, which is known to be a bit less urban than Nice and more low-key than the ritzy Cannes. Antibes has a beachcomber feel – and with its old town, sandy beaches and more affordable accommodations, it seemed to be our speed.

We stayed at Val Des Roses, a perfect little oasis tucked between modern hotels right along the longest sandy beach of Antibes, Plage de la Salis. Val des Roses is a white three-story mansion surrounded by lush gardens. It only has four rooms, so it feels like you have the entire property to yourself. You enter the grounds down a side alley with a private gate. Outside the entrance, it is only a 50ft walk to the most beautiful beach in Antibes. And inside the walls, you can definitely escape from reality. The best of both worlds.





The owner of Val des Roses is the uber-trendy, uber-friendly, 28-year-old Filipe from Belgium. Filipe and his family started the place 14 years ago, and he has since taken it over. Not bad to be running one of the best small hotels in Antibes at only 28 years old.

Almost as a mirror to the French Riviera itself, the hotel was decorated in a very chic, beachy style. Everything was white: the walls, the curtains, the floors, the furniture, the beach umbrellas – and the accents and cushions were all sparkly turquoise and shimmery silver. The wine coolers and self-serve snack bars were stainless steel and the countertops were black marble. The garden was lush, with all of the palm trees and flowers perfectly placed to hide the surrounding buildings so you truly felt tucked away in your own personal Antibes.





Dave had I had the room on the top floor with a large bed, a whirlpool tub and windows on each side overlooking the pool and the sea. It had exposed beams in the ceiling and a dark wooden screen separating the tub from the rest of the room.

Breakfast was set up in the sunroom each morning by 8:30. It was an impressive collection of fruits, pastries, cheeses, sausage, jams, eggs for hardboiling, squeeze your own orange juice and fresh strong coffee. You filled your large white square plate and walked it out to the deck with sun umbrellas and a view of the morning sun over the Mediterranean.



Each morning, I went for a 5-mile run along the beach on the top of the ancient stone wall lining Old Antibes. I would turn around at the Antibes Yacht Club (the largest port for yachts along the French Riviera). These boats were like small islands, sparkling clean with large crews to staff each one. It was a glimpse into another life.

After my run, I met Dave down by the pool and we headed to the beach. Plage de la Salis stretched from one end at the Cap d’Antibes (a gated community filled with expensive villas) to the other end at the start of the stone walls to the old town. It was a narrow beach, which was okay – because even on the weekend, it wasn’t very crowded. The seas were a calm turquoise blue with soft sand bars for wading. People spent a lot of time in the water floating on rafts, taking in the sun. Every 100 feet or so there was a food stand selling paninis, crepes and “American” hot dogs. A ham, tomato, gruyere panini on the beach beats a greasy hamburger and fries any day.





The sunbathers were an interesting cross section: French families with young children, young travelers from all over Europe, Italians, older French women sunbathing topless and many British tourists with blazing white skin. It was refreshing to lie there and not hear any conversations in English, the voices would blend in with the sounds of the sea and you weren’t distracted by anything but your own thoughts.

Dave and I spent a wonderful day lounging and swimming. We made the decision to stay there and not drive up the coast to Nice or Monte Carlo. We needed a vacation!

After a cool dip in our hotel pool and plenty of time to relax and get cleaned up – Dave and I put on our fancy clothes and headed out for a top notch dinner in the glamorous Cannes.



Cannes – where the rich and wannabe famous come out to play! It is quite the place. Dave and I got there early for our dinner reservation and spent some time strolling down the famous La Croisette (promenade). On one side, was the beautiful sea with sandy private beach clubs, down the middle, huge palm trees and on the other side, some of the most glamorous hotels I’ve ever seen with stores fronts of every major designer. For the women reading this blog: Prada, Miu Miu, Chanel, Louis Vutton, Valentino, D & G. For the men reading this blog: down the street rolled, Audis, BMWs, Bentleys, Rolls Royces, Ferraris, Porches (including an Audi that Dave priced around 400K). And through it all walked beautiful men and women who were wearing those clothes, driving those cars and living the life. Intermingled, were tourists like us – with cameras – snapping pictures and taking it all in.





For one night, Dave and I lived above our means and had a wonderful dinner at a restaurant I found on Epicurious.com called Mantel. Decadent food and impeccable service. We were wined and dined. I started with a tomato mozzarella salad, unlike any I had tried before. The mozzarella was so mild and light. The waiter said that the variety of mozzarella was specifically named on the menu because it was such a special variety. Dave started with watercress, artichoke and parmesan salad. For the main course, I had a perfectly cooked rack of lamb with roasted vegetables and Dave had the lightest, creamiest risotto I’ve ever tasted, topped with gently fried zucchini blossoms. For dessert we had four small bites: a pannacotta with raspberry coulis, a strawberry tart, tiramisu and chocolate mousse with a cocoa powder dusting. And over café and cappuccino, we sampled their homemade marshmallows. They were airy and fluffy and lightly dusted with orange blossom-laced sugar. Unfortunately, the restaurant was too fancy for food picture taking, but I couldn’t resist a quick shot of the marshmallows in the glass jar that was delivered to the table.





After dinner, Dave and I strolled the streets of Cannes and watched all of the beautiful (and trying to be beautiful) people strut in and out of restaurants, hotels and casinos or cruise up and down the main drag in their outrageous cars. Around midnight, we were glad to head back to Antibes and to, our now seemingly quaint, Val des Roses.

This morning, we milked our final day on the coast. I got up early and went for another run. We were at breakfast by 9 and on the beach by 9:30 to get in another hour of sunshine and sea-soaking before having to check out at 11. After saying goodbye to Filipe, his cat and turtle, we left our little oasis and started the long drive toward the Pyrenees.

About two hours outside of Antibes, we stopped for an hour to explore Aix en Provence, the old capital city of Provence and had lunch at a café on the main boulevard. And now, as I type, we are driving straight through to Bagneres du Luchon in the Pyrenees – which will be our home for the next five days. We are just starting to see the mountains in the distance. With luck and no hiccups, we will arrive at our next hotel, Villa Florida, around 9 tonight.

Now that we’ve had our little vacation, we’re rested and ready to get back to the business of the Tour de France and to conquering the steep climbs of the Cols of the Pyrenees.



(On a side note, we've since arrived in Luchon and our hotel, Villa Florida. We only barely drove through the town at dusk - but we can already tell that we're in love. It will be heaven to call this place home for five days. Stories to come...)

From Provence to the Sea

I learned something new today: Be sure to leave your car windows rolled down while driving through Provence because the smell of lavender is amazing. (I am also learning that French keyboards are very different as I type on the laptop offered to us in our new hotel)

We slept in a little this morning to enjoy our last hours at Le Vieil Aiglun. We lingered at breakfast, had an extra coffee and tea. We wandered slowly around the grounds and took pictures to try to capture the place. But the time came to check out and we packed the car and headed off on our day of explorations. Our plan today was to take in some key sights over a three-hour drive to our next resting place, Antibes.



We started by driving through the closest village to the east of Aiglun, Digne les Bains - a quaint spa town tucked into the hills with well-known thermal spas. From there we headed south to the heavily touristed town of Moustiers-Sainte-Marie - at the entrance to the breathtaking Gorges du Verdon. On the way we passed field upon field of beautifully fragrant lavender rows.



There is a reason why Moustiers-Sainte-Marie is heavily touristed, it is picture perfect. The only way I can really describe it to you is with a few pictures (below). It is another famous Village Perches, tucked high into an impressive limestone mountainface, with narrow pedestrian-only streets that are lined with traditional Provencal stores, cafes and fresh produce market stands - not to mention a towering waterfall cascading directly through the middle of town. Dave and I wandered up and down the streets, taking pictures and doing some shopping. In addition to the lavender, fabrics and local farm products, Moustiers-Sainte-Marie is known for being the town where traditional French, hand-painted, ceramics were born. So while wandering, it was fun to browse all of the ceramic shops and look at all of the locally made pieces that were all too breakable to fly home.







Dave and I were ready to head into the Gorges du Verdon park, so we loaded up on a picnic lunch at the little Fromagerie in town. We stocked up on cheeses, fresh bread, sausage and olives. Yes. It was that good.



According to the guide book, the Gorges du Verdon are one of France's secret treasures. And I am glad that we took the time to discover it. The park is known as Europe's Grand Canyon. The views were absolutely spectacular. Imagine the Grand Canyon, but with dark green vegetation, limestone walls and a brilliant turquoise river raging through it. Dave and I drove for about two hours through harrowing hairpin roads along the canyon's edge and took in the amazing views. We stopped and climbed up above an overlook and enjoyed our Provencal picnic. If it was possible to make fresh cheeses and sausages taste better, that view did the trick.






From there, we headed another two hours to the French Riviera. As we got closer to the sea, the mountains became increasingly full of buildings and towns. We were emmerging out of a very ancient, rural Provence and into the upscale and crowded beach towns of the Cote d'Azur.

We arrived in Antibes around 730. More on our hotel tomorrow. We are taking some time to adjust back to being in civilization, but I think that some much-needed beach time will certainly help with that tomorrow.

But before I go to bed, I wanted to mention our amazing dinner in Antibes. We wandered into Old Antibes and ate at a lovely outdoor restaurant, La Gravette. The food was spectacular. Dave had a crab gratin to start, followed by scallops and finished off with a lemon and cinamon creme brule. I had a tomato tart, followed by king prawns in a Provencal sauce and finished with a warm tart-tartin. The bottle of vin blanc was delicious and the atmosphere very cool, tucked in behind ancient stone walls alongside a marina and the Mediterranean Sea.





Tomorrow we relax and hit the beach. It's about time for our little vacation in the middle of our vacaction!

Le Tour Toujours

Today was really about two things. Spending time at the Tour de France and relaxing in Provence. Mission accomplished.

We got up early again (no rest for vacationers) and had the same lovely breakfast with some conversation with our new Belgian friends – who were also big cycling fans. It was cut slightly short when we were notified by the innkeeper that we needed to leave right then, or risk being trapped in the driveway for another 30 mins as the harvester made its way up the hairpin turns to the nearby fields. Ah, Provence.

So we jumped in the car and headed to nearby Sisteron (about a 30-min drive) where the Tour was scheduled to depart that morning. Sisteron is much smaller than Gap and is much more like an ancient hilltop village (or Village Perches). It prides itself in its stone Citadel which sits high above the town and is illuminated by impressive spotlights at night.

The small town handled the onslaught of the Tour very well. And that’s no small task. We have learned that when the Tour takes over a town, it’s a huge undertaking. Thousands of people come out of the woodwork – locals, visiting tour hoppers like us, event staff, cyclists, team support staff and mechanics, media, sponsors, police, emergency vehicles and hundreds of Tour-related cars and potentially thousands of spectator cars. But these small French towns handle it like clockwork. And, according to Dave, they pay to have the Tour come to town. It’s a big deal for your town to be a start or stop location.

We were routed into a large field set up for event parking and hiked up into town (only a five-min walk). We were there almost three hours before the cyclists were scheduled to depart, and the town was already full with people. From the starting line and down the main boulevard in town, people were lined three or four deep to watch the departure. But that was okay, we expected that. The goal of the day was to get the lay of the land. We plan to be there at the crack of dawn in a start town in the Pyrenees and will secure a prime spot early on that day.

So, today we explored and soaked it all in. The town was alive with Tour fever. Banners were hung across the streets, and giant colored jerseys were displayed on the medieval stone towers. It was such a great atmosphere.



At around 10:50 a.m. the caravan was scheduled to depart (generally a few hours ahead of the peleton). The caravan is an interesting phenomenon and something that you really need to see to understand. All of the Tour sponsors have cars and trucks, set up almost like parade floats. There are young, pretty girls and handsome French men strapped into the truck beds wearing microphones and waving and yelling to the crowd – in French – probably telling them how great their product is. The music is blaring from each truck and they throw free stuff into the crowds. It’s one big giant, crazy, cooky advertisement, but it’s fun and it gets the crowd excited for the race. We especially enjoyed the Vittel water trucks that sprayed mist on the onlookers. Just be sure to hide your cameras and be ready to grab the much-needed free bottles of water!



Dave scouted out a good idea for us, since it was next to impossible to see the start line. There was a long stretch of road, with barricades on each side, that led from the Team buses to the start line. All of the riders would need to roll through there to sign in for the day and line up. And this area wasn’t crowded at all. So we picked out a spot in the shade, draped our American flag over the barriers and prepared to get the attention of any of the cyclists we knew.
This was also the area where the press walked back and forth from the team buses to the starting line. We saw a well-known Versus anchor and his crew. And Velo News, Cycling News, AP, AFP, etc, etc. Any Americans would smile and wave to us as they walked by and saw our flag – which was an unusual thing to see in a small town in the Alps during the Tour de France.

One guy came up to us and asked us where we were from. Turns out he is a freelancer for Bicycling Magazine who prepares video packages of the tour for the magazine’s website. It was his 12th year following the tour. The first eight were as a fan and spectator and the last four he was working them. He had some good advice and we had an interesting conversation…we then exchanged contact info and said “see you in the Pyrenees next week!”

Then, around Noon – the cyclists began to trickle by. One at a time or in small groups of three or four. This was great! We waved our large American flag and yelled out to the cyclists we knew to say hello. And the American riders responded to us! They were all so nice. We didn’t know a lot of the early riders to come by, but then more and more cyclists we knew began appearing. It was surreal to see them in person. Man, these guys are big! Machines.

We said hello to (pictures below) Chris Horner who waved and said hey guys! We got a great hello and response from Tyler Farrar (side note, Tyler is one of my new favorite riders. First of all, he’s a young American sprinter, which doesn’t happen very often and as of yesterday, I found out he is exceptionally nice.) George Hincapie and Levi Lephieimer both said hello. We even got a smile and wave from the legendary sprinter, Mark Cavendish. And a smile and nod from David Zabriske. What fun!








You must understand that these guys are celebrities to us – and the only time you get a chance to see them is typically in Europe during the one-day classics or grand tours. And the great thing about them all, is that they are nice and approachable. The American flag definitely came in handy and brought out lots of smiles and waves. We look forward to stalking these guys further in the Pyrenees!

At 12:45, Stage 11 began and the cyclists all departed the tiny town of Sisteron. And with their departure, the crowds dispersed as well. Dave and I went to the official Tour boutique and bought some shirts that say Le Tour Toujours “The Tour Forever.” While in line, we met a nice couple from Colorado who were following the Tour in an RV. We exchanged notes and also said “See you in the Pyrenees!”

Dave and I headed out of town. Now that the Tour left, we are Tour free until next Monday in the mountains. We decided that the priority for the rest of the day was to relax and actually spend some time at our lovely hotel. We had planned out a two-hour drive into the mountains outside of Sisteron heading east and then south over a few passes and back down to the hotel. Right in the middle is one of the famous hilltop villages of the Hautes Provence – Thoard. It was a good way to get some local sightseeing in.



The drive was beautiful and the town was just what we expected. Narrow streets, stone walls and a church sticking up high in the middle. The town was surrounded by fields of lavender and mountain peaks.



We parked and stopped at the only café in town and ordered their plat du jour (plate of the day) which is the only thing on the menu. It was a simple, yet very complex salad, filled with all sort of good things and wonderful flavors. Honestly, one of the best meals we had up to that point.



From there it was another 30 mins back to the hotel. We were hot and tired (it’s been about 90 every day) – so I headed for the pool, and Dave of course headed for a bike ride.

The pool here is gorgeous and surrounded by amazing views. I lounged with the other five families here at the hotel. And the nice thing about this place is that the owners joined us. Charles went for a swim and Annick was out picking lavender. Meanwhile, our dinner was wafting good smells across the property.

Charles and Annick cook dinner twice a week for their guests, and we had a feeling that it was something we didn’t want to miss. A long table was set up in the back garden, below our balcony. Very simply, elegant decorations so as not to compete with the beautiful nature that surrounded us.



About 10 of us gathered, and Charles and Annick joined us for the dinner that they prepared. We started with drinks and small appetizers. Our first course was an avocado tartar with tomatoes, pine nuts and shrimp. Then the masterpiece arrived. Charles had cooked three large pots of Provencal beef stew. Large chunks of beef, bacon, olives, tomatoes, lemon, red wine and Provencal spices. It was served with large boiled potatoes. This meal immediately surpassed our lunch as the best meal of the trip so far.



Dessert was a cheese, cream and raspberry coulis custard, more wine and great conversation with our new Belgian and French friends. We laughed, ate and learned a lot about each other’s cultures. The sun set around us, the temperature was perfect and the candles lit for the evening. Nobody wanted to end the night, but everyone was tired from the wine and sunshine of the day. We bid each other goodnight and went our separate ways to our rooms. One by one, the lights went out and all that was left was the sound of the crickets in the field. It was another beautiful day in Provence.

Le Quatorze Juillet

Our first day in Provence felt a lot like the real first day of vacation. We loved Paris, we really did. But Provence is relaxation. There is a reason why thousands of French families head here for holidays during the summertime. And it's also the first time we encountered what we came here to see - Le Tour. It helped that there wasn't a cloud in the sky, our hotel is picture perfect, the surroundings are breathtaking. But I think it also helped that it was Bastille Day, a French national holiday, and it felt like a celebration of our arrival. A kick off to our great adventure.

The day started with a Provencal breakfast outside. The sun filled our room and we awoke to golden fields of wheat and an amazing backdrop of the alps. The dark long road we drove up the night before, the switchbacks, apparently brought us to the top of the world and the views from our little stone balcony were priceless.

We were the last to arrive at the hotel the night before and the first to arrive at breakfast. Charles, our innkeeper - a Belgian transplant - was there to greet us and show us breakafast. We filled our plates with granola, yogurt, bread, cheese, jams and honey and sat outside in the morning sun and took in our surroundings. We wish we could have lingered all day, but we had a full schedule and a Tour De France stage to get to in the afternoon.

We drove about an hour north toward Gap, one of the larger towns in the region. It's known largely as a ski and resort town - but more about Gap later. We turned slightly east to park at a small village called Chorges, where we easily parked the car and rebuilt our bikes for our first cycling adventure.

We planned a 45-mile route around Serre Ponçon Lake, east of Gap. Apparently it's a large resort, holiday area - and we could immediately see why. As we rolled out of Chorges, the lake started to come into view. This lake was a perfect teal and it was enormous. Towering all around it were high peaks, and on its shores were dozens of families sunning, boating and windsurfing. The whole area was absolutely gorgeous.

I can't really explain it with this blog, but the ride was breathtaking. I was actually catagorizing it in my head as I rode: "Is this the most scenic ride I've been on?" And the answer is yes, by far. You know that I love Colorado, but this was something in a different league.

(Pictures coming soon! On a different camera...)

We traveled along beaches, mountains, causeways and bridges. The sky was blue, the water was bluer and everything around us just acted as fuel for the ride. I felt like nothing could stop us....until the road started to go up. And up. And up. Switchback after switchback. Suddenly, the most beautiful ride I ever did also became one of the most difficult. The twists and turns rose high above the lake until it was just a green speck below. Those beautiful mountains we were admiring were now our enemies. The sun was blazing and the climbs got steeper. In total, 4,000 feet of climbing in three massive climbs over 40 miles. I cursed every switchback, but loved this ride.

A wonderful thing that we learned about riding in France is that, you think you're in the middle of nowhere, struggling up an enormous mountain climb, and then you come around a hairpin turn, reach the summit - and there's a little cafe! Music playing, people sitting and having wine and the plat du jour. It's great. Dave even stopped at one point to get us fresh water from a hose, cokes and some apples from a roadside stand.

The ride took a lot longer than expected, thanks to the Alps - so when it was over, we had to hustle to get to Gap to see the end of Stage 10 of the Tour. Plus, we were nervous. Our first time meeting up with the largest sporting event on earth. We didn't know what to expect!

We decided that at this late hour, there would be no way to get into town to be at the finish. So Dave scouted out a great location. We drove up as far as we could before the roads were closed and walked over to about 3K left - right outside of town and right at the bottom of the descent off of the final climb of the day. It was literally about 100 feet away from where Lance had his famous off roading incident seven years ago and only about 50ft from a tight right turn between buildings heading into town. Not only could we see them coming down the hill, but they'd have to slow down there to make the turn.



Right as we got there, the pre-tour caravan was just finishing coming through. I'll explain more about this crazy caravan in the next post. But the rule of thumb is that it is usually another hour or so later that the cyclists come by. So we knew we had some time to position ourselves. And so we waited, and waited....and waited. Apparently we werent the only ones to suffer on a climb that day. It was hot and the peleton took their sweet time arriving into town.

As we waited, a lot of early team cars drove through, honking their horns to get the crowd excited. Dave had his Garmin jersey on, so he got a nice wave and honk from Matt White, the Garmin head coach.

Finally, we heard the helicopters in the distance - which have the TV cameras - and which meant that the peleton was approaching. And then local families, who were watching the stage on TV, started coming out of their houses knowing that the riders were approaching.

And then the breakaway came into site! And it had a Radio Shack team member! We cheered them on. And then a few more stragglers from the breakaway came roaring past. And then nothing. Obviously, the peleton had let them go and the gap had widened. It felt like almost 10 mins before we started hearing the second helicopter coming into ear shot.

And then it arrived. The peleton. With Andy Schleck in yellow leading the pack. The peleton is like an animal, it roars, it curses, it generates wind and in an instant it's gone. But while it's roaring past you, you can pick out faces of your favorite riders. I saw Lance. And I yelled. GOOOOOO LANCE!!! And yes, I got a smile. The hours of waiting were worth it.



And like that, they were gone...and we limped back to the car, desperate for food and water. But ecstatic about our first of several enounters with Le Tour.

But the day wasn't over yet. It was Bastille Day, and we had some partying to do. We piled into the traffic jam and headed into Gap for the evening. We found a parking spot near a few of the team cars and vans and took some photos with the Columbia HTC bus (Dave got to chat with the mechanics and drool at the bikes) and I took a few shots with a Radio Shack team car.




We wandered into the town center and quickly fell in love with the narrow alley ways, cafes, town squares and lively people. We found a great outdoor cafe, and settled in for a three-hour dinner. There was a band playing, we were surrounded by Tour staff and I had steak and frites. Life was good.

After dinner, we wandered around and followed the crowds - who seemed to know what best to do. For example, we chose the longest line for ice cream and were rewarded with a great dessert. By then, it was 10:30, we were eating our ice cream, and the first boom of the fireworks went off. We could see it explode over the rooftops, but didn't know where to go. So we marched after the crowd that all seemed to be hurrying to the same place. We reached the end of an alley that opened into a large square, where thousands had gathered to celebrate their national holiday.

We were treated to a fantastic fireworks display - some of the more interesting and beautiful fireworks we've seen. They were perfectly set to the music and were shot off very low, so they truly seemed to filled the sky above our heads just above the village rooftops. We may not be French, but for one day we got to celebrate along side them. And after such a wonderful, full, exciting day - July 14 to me will now forever be le quatorze juillet.



(We are still a day behind with posts. Stay tuned for our July 15 update with stories of how American flags can change your entire Tour experience and how we did actually find a moment to relax.)

The Kindness of (French) Strangers

Well, we made it out of Paris and into the Alps and Provence - but not without a long journey and a few bumps in the road.

Dave picked up the rental car (our new friend, a nice, little, silver Ford hatchback). We loaded up the car and headed out to Anne's family's house. Dave has an amazing sense of direction. Once we navigated out of Paris, he remembered the way to Anne's and we got there in less than 30 mins with no problem at all.

Anne was there to greet us - and feed us breakfast - while Dave put our bikes together for the trip. After a few "incidents" with the expresso machine, we were well-fueled and ready to start the long drive to the Hautes Alpes - Provence.

Getting out of the Paris suburbs was easy, and we headed south through the Dijon region. We drove through several hours of rolling countryside and farmland. The Dijon/Burgandy region is well-known for its wine. (Wine lovers may be familiar with Chablis?). There are also a number of small towns and chateaus, but we were on the main highway and wisked past the sights. I used the time to catch up on some sleep.

About four hours into the drive, we arrived in Lyons. We had thought about having lunch in the old town section, but when we saw the traffic heading into the city, we quickly changed our minds and kept heading south toward Grenoble.

Within the hour, the landscape dramaticaly changed. We suddenly went from rolling hills, farmland and forests - turned the corner - and there were the foothills to the Alps towering in front of us. Grenoble is situated in a large canyon between some very high peaks. (The Olympics were hosted there in 1968).



There was more traffic into Grenoble, but this time we braved it because Dave had been driving five hours straight and we were both tired and hungry. Grenoble was bigger than we expected (though nowhere near as big as Lyons). We got through the very urban outskirts of the city, where a university is located, and got to the center of the old town. We found a parking garage and went looking for food.

This is when we learned a very important fact about France. There are a few hours between lunch and dinner when most cafes do not serve food. It was 6:30 and right in the middle of those hours. There were tons of people sitting at tables at tons of sidewalks cafes - but they were all having drinks and enjoying the beautiful day. Food wouldn't be served until 7:30. We were getting nervous about the hours still ahead of us on the road, so we found a small pastry shop that had some pizzas left over from the lunch hour and had them warm them up for us. We quickly downed the food and got back on the road.

Our "bump in the road" occured about 30 kilometers later as the highway turned into a two-lane road. We saw a sign that said, last gas on autoroute. Which suddenly made Dave think...we should fill up before we get too much further. So we turned around and headed to the station. Well, it was closed but pumps were open....open for people who had European electronic chips in their credit cards. Oops. Suddenly it dawned on Dave that all of the small-town gas stations ahead would have the same situation. And we did not want to head into the mountains with the knowledge that there was no gas available until the next day when the small stations would reopen. So...we turned around and headed the 30 kilometers back to Grenoble. Sigh. And it's when we got there, that we started to panic. By then it was 8pm, and not only was every gas station in town closed, but every station only took the special cards. We stopped at one station and there was a man inside, but he motioned through the window to Dave, "no we are closed."

The look of panic on our faces must have been obvious, because this is the moment that a stranger stepped in and saved our night. At the next stoplight, when Dave and I were "discussing" our next move, a young guy pulled up beside us and honked. He didn't speak English, we don't speak French, but he yelled "station?" and we said "oui" and he motioned us to follow him, and we did. He took us through Grenoble and very kindly dropped us off at a 24-hour gas station that probably would have taken us forever to find. Relief.

And then the 30 kilometer drive BACK toward the hotel, and the realization that we wouldn't arrive now until near 11 p.m.

Thankfully, it does stay light until 10:30, so we did have incredible views of the Alps for most of the way there. And even after it got dark, the roads were all very well-marked so we found our way to the hotel (Vieil Aiglun) with no problem at all.

After 10 hours of driving and a few hiccups, we pulled up the side of a small mountain, in the dark, about 21 switchbacks into nowhere - and arrived at our little slice of paradise. We turned off the car and all we saw were stars in the night's sky and an ancient church illuminated on the hill. Everything was silent, except for our feet crunching on the gravel and the crickets in the fields. Our little stone house looked incredible, even at night. The owners had left directions for us to our room and we found our way through the courtyard and up narrow stone steps. Our room was perfect. We sat out on our little balcony, looking out into the darkness - and finally felt the stress of Paris and city life melting away.

Within 30 minutes we were asleep - thankful for the kindness of strangers and slipping into dreams of meeting up with the Tour de France the following day.



(Sorry, we are a day behind in our blogs. After that journey, there was no way we were posting last night. Today, Bastille Day, we had a great adventure. Dave will be blogging about it tomorrow.)

It Must Be Something in the Air

It must be something in the air, but whatever it is, Paris can find a way to rejuvenate you. After a much needed nap yesterday afternoon, Dave and I wandered out to find a restaurant (a somewhat daunting task when you don't speak French). When we stepped outside, the sky was blue without a cloud and the temperature was perfect. We held hands, strolled through St. Germain Des Pres and realized that whatever cafe we chose, we'd be happy. So we headed back to the same cozy street where we had dinner the night before and stumbled upon a bustling cafe with tables almost full on the sidewalk. Everyone spoke French and sounded happy, so we stopped. And settled in for a wonderful three-hour meal with the soundtrack of a guitar-playing performer across the street. Despite the fact that we didn't speak French, and our waiter didn't speak English, we knew he was friendly and we laughed and had a great time. I started with a vegetable tart followed by duck with currants and pear. Dave had a summer salad with prawns and a pineapple covered curried pork. We both shared a caraffe of wine and a cheese board for dessert. By 11, the sun had just set (I know, amazing) and we wandered back to the hotel - with a quick stop at Dave's favorite glace shop (ice cream) for some lemon ice cream. Perfect evening.

And then this morning, even with only 4.5 hours of sleep, I was up at 7 a.m. and headed out to Luxenbourg Park for an awesome 6-mile run. For some reason, I've been averaging some of my fastest times yet here. Maybe it's the palace, or the flowers or the slower pace of life...or maybe it's just something in the air.