Climb every mountain
The Tour de France is an exhausting thriller of a ride that demands enormous dedication and stamina - and that's just from the spectators. Text and pictures by Tim Pile
You hear the thump of helicopter blades first.
Car horns, cowbells and vuvuzelas lift the volume to ear-splitting levels. Police sirens wail and hundreds of Norwegians start chanting, "Heia! Heia!"
The leaders emerge through a tunnel of fans who step aside, matador-style, at the last possible moment. In the blink of an eye, the riders are gone. Soon the next group appears and the wall of noise rises to another crescendo, urging the straining competitors upwards and onwards.
The Tour de France is more than a bicycle race. It's a three-week endurance test that demands dedication, stamina and meticulous planning. A head for heights is crucial, as is the importance of taking the right kind of "liquids" on board. And that's just the spectators.
Way back in the mists of pre-Olympics time, 198 sinewy cyclists started this year's edition of the legendary contest. They battled on a daily basis for the privilege of wearing the maillot jaune; the yellow jersey, which denotes the overall leader. Specialists fought for the right to don green, white and polka-dot jerseys, which are for the points leader, best young rider and king of the mountains, respectively.
By the time those still in the saddle glided along the Champs Élysées in Paris, they had pedalled 3,497 kilometres over three gruelling weeks. They had criss-crossed the Alps and the Pyrenees in a punishing schedule that sapped strength and tested sanity.
points of the spectacle, I've undergone a Tour de France crash course. I've read up on the favourites, studied maps of the stages and immersed myself in the folklore and traditions that are part of any great sporting event.