Well our last day in France was, as expected, exciting, exhilarating & awe-inspiring.
I write this on our plane back to reality and whilst we're all looking forwards to seeing our loved-ones, I'm not too impressed by the forecast of 1-11 degrees on Saturday in good ol' Wagga. The boys have travelled well despite some assuming unusual sleeping positions in the plush economy class seats. Dydey in particular with his headphone cords around his neck, a cream blanket pulled up around his ears and glasses on the tip of his nose looking much like the Dalai Lama.
Last night we dined at a nearby seafood restaurant with Hammo's sister Rebecca (who had made a special trip from Birmingham to see us all - cheers Bec) and Sarah, a friend of mine from Wagga who is on her own trip of a lifetime. This provided opportunity for some would-be Casanova's to strut their stuff in front of the two new and very welcome, albeit temporary group members. The girls seemed to appreciate the attention and certainly held their own amongst the onslaught of testosterone from the temporarily-widowed travellers.
An early night was had by all and we awoke refreshed and ready to see Vicenzo Niballi & the remainder of the peloton strut their own stuff on the famous Champs Élysées. With our bikes no longer available and no mountains to climb anyway, we headed off on Shank's pony to find the gold at rainbow's end - that being the fully catered marquee we had been looking forward to for the last 2 weeks (if not the last 18 months)
So we set off in earnest through the Parisian streets, Hammo as eager as ever to get any sort of skin-to-skin time with a member of the peloton. The hotel is only about 1.5km from the famous shopping strip that today would see the cycling dreams of both male and female competitors (& spectators) come alive.
"It should be an easy walk" I heard a few of my fellow travellers say. How hard can it be? There's a saying about chiefs and Indians. Relevant? Maybe. It did prove a little more difficult than expected. Who would've thought that the biggest sporting event in the world, one that moves some 10000 people with it from place to place would create a little traffic & pedestrian havoc? The originally simple journey was made even more difficult by the not-so- helpful Gendarmes who seemed to be as non-local as the wandering Wagga Wagga wilder beasts. Barney and Briss did test the local constabulary's patience by jumping the barrier and making a run for it but it proved to be a wasted effort as they needed to rejoin the rest of us get their tickets anyway. HaHa. In fairness, Barney isn't used to needing tickets to big events as he is normally the star attraction. Finally, under instruction from Craig we made our way through the underground Metro, onto the hallowed pavè, up to our pot of gold and into our final destination, which did not disappoint.
The Custom Getaways 'Rive Gauche' marquee, set up like a wedding reception, virtually formed part of the border of the champs élysées giving us unprecedented access to the one of the biggest sporting events on the planet. A comparison would be sitting in a fully catered tent on the half way line at the Super Bowl or on the umpire's lap at the Wimbledon final.
It was the first time that there had been a female road race preceding the men's event and we gave our Aussie girls plenty of cheer. One of the girls - Lizzie Williams who races with Wagga's own Sophie Mackay did us the great pleasure of stopping and having some photos with us after the race (which is more than we can say for the Orica-Greenedge boys who stayed well away - apparently scared off by our enthusiasm)
Entertainment inside included a masterful display of card tricks by a professional illusionist. Amazing to say the least. Unless I was there I wouldn't have believed it wasn't set up for TV or that Chambo hadn't shoved that signed 10-of-clubs in the tricksters mouth sometime prior to the trick starting.
The day went quickly and before we knew it the big boys (I don't mean myself and Barney) were on the main stage and racing by us like a noisy, mobile kaleidoscope. Marcel Kittel won the final sprint and we hung around for a few hours trying to get some photos with the pros. Some were successful and whilst Kris Whybro may never be able to afford to pay Riche Porte to wear his Kidsons gear, he was kind enough to don the new but now famous logo for a pic.
10 blokes, 10+ HC climbs and 20 great days have come to an end but what a fantastic journey it's been. Thanks again to Hammo, Simon, Andy and Sim for putting together such a great tour. Even without the pictorial album we have so many memories and experiences that won't be forgotten any time soon.
Looking forward to seeing see you all on the bike and then at the coffee shop
Au revoir,
Dr Carl
Epilogue
Just when we thought the laughter was over and candidates for 'the shirt' we're no-longer, Hammo gave us one last bit of material. We arrived at the REX check-in to fly back to Wagga with a plan to talk our way out of excess luggage charges. Hammo's verbal massage technique involved his usual charming tone and toothy white smile along with name-dropping a REX employee at Wagga. The check-in lady, who looked like she'd rather be inserting cane splinters under her fingernails than dealing with any member of the public was sort of helpful, in her own special way. Even our charming Hammo, AKO Minister for Negotiation couldn't do anything about his luggage weight limit because he was in the wrong terminal & at the wrong airline but fortunately still on time. Classic way to finish !!!i
No comments:
Post a Comment