Stage 20: The Beginning of the End

Donald, pulling Phil and I up a hill.

But pleasures are like poppies spread,

You sieze the flower, its bloom is shed;

Or like the snow falls in the river,

A moment white--then melts for ever;

Or like the borealis race,

That flit ere you can point their place;

Or like the rainbow's lovely form

Evanishing amid the storm.--

Robert Burns – Tam O’Shanter

‘John – you’re immortal now’  

Bill Shankly to Jock Stein, Lisbon 1967.

It is a curious anomaly. There are 21 stages in the tour and the tour organisers do everything to try and make sure that the race stays alive until the very last moment. In many ways all the stages are just a warm up (or a device to tire out the riders) for a final show down. Except the final showdown is never on the final day. The last day is just a procession, a chance for the riders to sup champagne and pose for photos en route to a party in Paris. There is an agreement that the last stage is neutralised, until the riders enter the Champs Elyses, then it all goes hell for leather and the sprinters get their chance to go crazy and gain a coveted win on the final stage, but by then the race for the Malliot Jaune is all over. That is decided on the second last stage and this year the organisers have tried to ensure that it is resolved on the very last hill of the second last stage.

On paper today’s stage looked pretty easy. A few categorised climbs, but nothing to get overly stressed about. Certainly nothing compared to the leg breakers of yesterday. The pros will probably ride today’s stage all in the big ring, until the final climb, an HC up to Annecy-Semnoz.

We had a short transfer to Annecy, this morning, which must be one of the most beautiful towns in the world. Build around a large lake of glacial turquoise and surrounded by towering Alpes. The sun was just rising as we rolled out and cast a golden sheen on the water. The peleton was in relaxed, almost jovial mood as we meandered along to the first feedstop. Todays was a short stage, so we only had three as opposed to our normal 4 feedstops. The sun was high in a cloudless sky and, in my mind at least, all was good with the world.

I sat towards the back of the bunch to the first feedstop. Big Donald had struggled on the long stage yesterday and I tried to help him as much as I could over the first few hills. Giving him a wee push when needed.

‘But pleasures are like the poppies spread…’

There were a few tired limbs in the group and some grumbles that they just wanted to get this stage finished and out of the way. I must confess to having mixed emotions. After yesterday, I am completely sure that I will ride into Paris. But now it is here, I don’t want it to arrive. In a way I am dreading it, but at the same time really looking forward to it. I have had the time of my life the last three weeks and I don’t want it to end. It’s a strange feeling. I have trained so hard for this, I have visualised the Eiffel tower so many times, but now it’s the last thing that I want to see. So, I wanted to savour every last moment of today’s ride. I suddenly realised today, that the trip has started to merge into one. I cant for the life of me remember, or distinguish, one stage from another. It’s just a morass of cycling, eating, chatting and laughing.

 I am also getting jaded by all the stunning scenery that we are seeing in the Alpes. It is hard to continue to be impressed when every time you turn a corner you are presented with another picture postcard scene. I have to remind myself at every corner that this is not normal. Individually each of these images are stunning and deserve to be marvelled at. When the dark winter nights come and I am struggling for motivation then I should be storing these images in my minds eye.

The view from the top of Mont Revard. Worth the extra k's.

There was a short detour to the top of Mont Revard. Only 3km there and back. A number of the guys decided that they would skip the detour, they just wanted to get finished. I decided to go up, and by god I am glad that I did. I was rewarded with perhaps the finest view we have been treated to this trip.

All too soon 106km had been frittered away and I was at the bottom of the final climb. I stopped to take a deep breath and a picture of the sign at the bottom of the hill. I tarried for a while, pausing to reflect for a moment or two. Postponing the inevitable. To start the climb, would be to begin the end of the tour. It felt all to ephemeral. I didn’t want it to end.

‘Nae Man can tether time nor tide

The hour approaches Tam maun ride’

Then I clipped in and went for it. I pushed my pedals hard, for the first time on the tour I went as hard as I could go, as if Cutty Sark herself and all her bogles were at my heels. I stepped into my pain cave and left everything out on the hill. I loved every second of it. Within a minute perspiration was coursing off my brow and sizzling on the handlebars. The corner of my eyes started to sweat, the snotters started to flow. I am sure it wasn’t an edifying sight, but it felt good. I flew up the hill and past other riders, I didn’t have the breath to say anything, but I waved and they shouted encouragement. I felt strong and I didn’t want it to end. But all too soon I was at the café just below the summit, there was a roar from other riders who had already finished and were enjoying a beer, one last kick and I was at the summit.

It felt good. I stopped a while and had my photo taken. Hand shakes and hugs were exchanged, there was emotion, but not like at the top of Ventoux. Today confirmed what we already knew. That we were going to make it, that everything was going to be alright. Today was not a tough day on the bike. Not like yesterday, not like the Ventoux. When we were in Provence we had suffered more and success was not a given. I think that was the point that we knew that we would all make it. It not only gave us belief but determination and a huge amount of confidence. Today there was satisfaction on Ventoux there had been pain, elation and exhaustion and that is a heady brew.

At the top of the final climb. Elated and yet, disappointed.

I rolled back to the café where my drouthy neebours sat bousing at the nappy, getting fou and uncou happy.

We sank a few beers in the sunshine and we reflected on the long miles that we had come.

As more riders finished they were each given a round of applause to push them up the final couple of hundred metres. As the crowd at the summit grew in number and grew more inebriated, the roars increased in volume and enthusiasm.

Then Donald crested the rise before the summit. Most of the faster riders had long departed back to the hotel; more’s the fool them. They missed, in my mind, the enduring image of the whole tour.

The bar stood as one, and gave Donald a standing ovation and a rousing cheer. After 3 weeks of displaying great courage and integrity, the last of the lifers had come in.  Forget the view from the top of Mont Revard or any of the other Alpine, Corsican or Pyrenean vistas, the smile on Donalds face reflected his courage, integrity and I hope, pride in what he had achieved. That will be my enduring image of the Tour. It will be that which will inspire me through any number of dark winter nights.

Burns was right. Pleasures are fleeting, no sooner are they here than they are gone. But I will remember that smile and that achievement for the rest of my days. For it far outweighs my achievement or that of any of the other ‘stronger’ riders.

So in a sense, Donald - you’re immortal now.

Well done that man.

From Annecy,

N