Tour de France Fever

Tour de France day. Cambrai was buzzing with excitement; gendarmerie stood on every corner and some even smiled; people in every lycra garment you could ever imagine wearing on a bicycle converged on the main square.  We kept up the entente cordiale by smiling but drew the line at the lycra.

Baking hot sun and a high of anticipation. The carillion chimed one of its merry tunes and then the circus arrived. The Tour de France is not just about cycling anymore. It is a massive high speed mobile show of camp euro-trash of the best order. Crazy vehicles in the shape of beer glasses, beds, mountains and wild animals whizzed past. Onboard dancers boogied in even crazier outfits which were accessorized by 5 point harnesses in a Health & Safety coup de grace. Music blared and DJs urged us to dance to the beat of whatever product they happened to be advertising. This went on for about fourty minutes and then the madness vanished into thin air. Gone.

We waited. Finally the coaches arrived and the square filled with news crews, officials, more lycra and the bikes. Cyclists emerged from the coaches, scarred from intense racing and high speed crashes on the cruel cobblestone stage from the previous day. Today was Day 3 of the Tour and a gentle stage – just a 153km race to Reims on gentle tarmac in 35 degrees. Dan and Callum pushed their way to the front of the barriers and waved autograph books. They were rewarded with several from cyclists and Callum even got one from another spectator who claimed to be an ex-Rugby League player from York!

Sensing that the race would begin soon, we fought our way through the crowds and walked a short way along the race route. The swarm of cyclists (the peloton) surrounded by motorbikes and cars, shot past. That was it. Over. We walked back to the boat, turned on ITV4 and watched the rest of the stage on TV.

Cambrai returned to normal.