The team were joined for dinner by some family and friends after the final stage, and then I left the hotel to stay in an apartment with Sarah. It was strange to be away from everyone after almost four weeks together.
I'd left my bike at the hotel, so we returned there for breakfast, and again, it was fascinating to note my relief to be back there - funny what becomes familiar, and how dependant we can become.
We'd always planned to see the race finish, but given our proximity to the start (it had been a relatively straightforward 4km ride there the previous day), I suggested we go there as well.
Stu, Bruce, Steven and I were the remaining riders, with Paul off to Malaysia, Mike and Aaron independently to Italy, and Jason back to New Zealand. Jonny dropped us all off, and Sarah and I wandered around with Stu, eventually laying claim to a 1 metre span of fence in a big courtyard.
Stu - what an amazing rider, man, and friend
While Stu and I chatted, Sarah darted off to watch the publicity caravan pass, then eventually we hit paydirt, and the riders started filing past to sign on.
Mikel Nieve chatting to Mikel Landa, with eventual stage winner, Alexander Kristoff just behind
Dion Smith seemed to approach the stage from behind, but we were excited to see Jack Bauer riding past. He ignored our first cries of "Jack, Jack...", but when I shouted "KIWI", he turned with a big smile, contemplated pulling a u-turn, and shouted "I'll be back!". He did return, and seemed very happy to linger, and had even been following our own progress around France.
Jack chatting to Stu
About half the first riders had not come past, but we were indeed on the main thoroughfare.
Geraint Thomas, vainquer
Many riders had completely neutral expressions on their faces, and didn't interact with the crowd at all. The French riders were popular, and Romain Bardet was one of very few that did stop!
Winner of the Mountains jersey, Julian Alaphilippe, with something for the after-match?
Best U23 rider, Pierre Latour, talking to race director, Christian Prudomme
Unfortunately, Paddy Bevin hadn't made it through the tour, but the fourth NZ starter, Tom Scully, dropped by for a chat with Stu, who knew him well from racing in Canterbury.
The crowd went somewhat wild, when current world champion, Peter Sagan arrived. It was very cool to see perhaps the rider of this generation, and undoubtedly an all-time great, pass by only centimetres away.
Peter Sagan, Champion du Monde, 2015, 2016, 2017
Nairo Quintana, Sarah's favourite rider
We started seeing more and more riders filing past on the race route just down the way, and it was clear the riders were about to get going. Sagan was on his way back, when I spotted a pen lying in the middle of the path, and just on the corner. Being slightly OCD, I motioned to an official to move it - probably not a hazard, but you never bloody know. He misunderstood, picked it up and gave it to me.
Providence perhaps. I'd also plucked a Skoda-sponsored cap out of the hedge when we spectated briefly on the Stage 2 route. When that was waved by Sarah at the Skoda-sponsored green jersey wearer, he stopped. I handed her the pen. She gave it to him. He signed the cap.
Peter Sagan, making someone else's day, too
The amazingness of it all was apparent, but it probably hasn't fully sunk in how magical that moment was. When we caught up with Dr Fish, he noted he'd got signatures from riders 20 years ago, but I'm not going to let that diminish those precious moments watching the best riders in our sport get ready to do their thing.
I'm about to return home, with some incredible memories, and a few incredible mementos. It was a twist of fate that Sarah caught two caps flung from the caravan, that Jack signed both, and that together, we have two beautiful daughters.
I can't think of a better place for the green cap to reside than Oli's workshop - I've thought about him so much during this trip, not only because my bike has run like a dream, but also because I know he will have been constantly thinking about me, riding the stage he'll watch on TV the next day.
Bromance is a wonderful thing, and I've developed a few new ones on this trip. Relationships and experiences are where its at folks, but things from time to time embody those.
The stage start was the perfect way to round things off. We returned to the hotel, and it was an emotional moment saying goodbye to Bruce and Stu, and Julie and Jonny in particular, people I'd all connected with, and will look to see in the future. Sarah and I left together, and didn't seek out the race on TV. I'd seen more than enough.
Signing off, from France.
* * * * *
This blog describes a fundraising project for the Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand.
Nearly 50% of New Zealanders will experience a mental health problem in their lifetime, and one in five will have experienced a mental illness this year.
Depression is set to overcome heart disease as the biggest global health burden by 2020.
The Mental Health Foundation (MHF) is a charity that works towards reducing stigma and discrimination associated with mental illness. We provide free support, training, and resources for anyone who is going through a difficult time, or for people who are supporting loved ones.
The final stage into Paris was short, but not without its challenges. Firstly, we had to travel about 700km to get to the start, and then, we had to quickly come to grips with Parisian drivers.
The transfer post-Stage-20 was meant to be simple, especially for us riders. Roger left with the bikes as soon as they were packed in the van after the TT stage, and the two vans dropped us at the Biarritz railway station after we'd had a chance to shower.
Unfortunately, a fire in Paris had disrupted TGV services, including hours, and, long story short, around the time we were scheduled to arrive into Gare Montparnasse in Paris, we were boarding a regional train to Bordeaux. By the time we arrived there, our crew had been waiting several hours, and with the TGV situation still not resolved, we were driven to Tours. We managed 6 hours sleep, before knocking off the remaining drive in the morning.
The good news was that my tummy bug had gone as quickly as it had arrived. By about 7:30pm, I'd begun to feel hungry, and the first food I'd eaten in 24 hours stayed put. When I suited up for the ride, I was feeling well enough to enjoy it.
Roger (in green) farewelling Matty
Jonathan had touched base with the women's manager, and they'd welcomed us to ride with them. When we arrived at the start venue just before noon, it was clear that they were well organised, with motorcycle escorts.
It was great seeing these guys on the road each day, doing the same thing as us, but fundraising for muscular dystrophy support
It was nice to meet the Chargé d’Affairs, Roger Dungan from the NZ Embassy here in Paris, and he and his family gave us a nice cheer when we rolled out near the back of the peloton.
Aaron had an unfortunate puncture, but the rear motos not only waited for him, but also radioed ahead and the bunch was slowed by the forward marshalls.
There were a few scheduled stops, and the bunch grew dramatically throughout the ride.
It was weird to all of a sudden be in a bunch of a few hundred, but when we reached Paris, it was clear that we were much better off in this peloton than we'd have been on our own.
It was also clear why the professionals choose to enjoy this final stage, rather than continue racing. Of course the stage honours are on the table, but for us, and no doubt them, it was an opportunity to enjoy one another's company, and to reflect on the significant challenges that had been overcome to get to this point.
I'd ridden on the Champs-Elysees before, and so was prepared for it to be a frustrating affair, and one which seems at odds with the rest of the event. After riding so freely almost everywhere else on the course, we were forced to stop probably more times on this stage than we'd been virtually the rest of the trip put together.
Flanked by Mike and Steven. Photo: Nick Paulsen
Because of traffic concerns, we weren't able to replicate the exact course at the end, and we only did one abbreviated lap. But it didn't matter. Riding 8-abreast with my riding buddies of the last three weeks was quite a hoot, and while the uneven nature of the road surface made it somewhat hard to hold our lines, it was a fun experience.
My dear parents were at the side of the road yelling, and I saw Sarah (for the first time since Pornic, the night before we started), just before we finished. It was wonderful to be reunited with them all before the team and I rode back to the hotel.
Happy couple, both looking forward to returning to normal life!
Donnons des elles au velo, J-1
As Paul so nicely put it:
By far the best part of the whole ride, for me, was the journey back to the hotel. Finally it was just us again, Team NZ, the average joe kiwis who had risen the whole damn tour. No entourage. I was free to smash the city streets of Paris just as fast as I wanted to go. Freedom on the roads. That is what cycling is about, that is why we do it. Fully unencumbered. It felt so good. I’ll remember the journey back to the hotel with team far more fondly than Stage 21 itself.
It made me realise I'd felt similarly, and it was one of many insights gained during this great opportunity to reflect on an amazing riding experience. More on that another time.
Matty's take on it:
* * * * *
This blog describes a fundraising project for the Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand.
Nearly 50% of New Zealanders will experience a mental health problem in their lifetime, and one in five will have experienced a mental illness this year.
Depression is set to overcome heart disease as the biggest global health burden by 2020.
The Mental Health Foundation (MHF) is a charity that works towards reducing stigma and discrimination associated with mental illness. We provide free support, training, and resources for anyone who is going through a difficult time, or for people who are supporting loved ones.
For the pros, the Stage 20 individual time trial has the potential to shake up the General Classification, but for us, it was an opportunity to wind down and begin our cruise to the finish.
The previous night, we’d arrived at our accommodation just after 11, and I was showered and in bed just before midnight. Not 15 minutes later, I started getting stomach cramps, and soon after that the fireworks started. Luckily, the rear end finished by the time I started bringing up my dinner, but all in all, it couldn’t have been a much more unpleasant few hours.
I probably got about 4 hours sleep before my alarm went, and when I joined the team for breakfast downstairs, all I could manage were a few sips of coffee and half a glass of apple juice.
At the appointed departure time, Stu and Julie bundled into my room to find me curled up in the foetal position on my bed. Stu took charge and not only ordered me to get up and dressed, but also draped a wet towel over my head, and started forcing me to drink. I was in lala land, a combination of the diaorrhea and vomiting ordeal, the lack of sleep, and possibly even that my daily antidepressant medication had been ejected into the toilet.
I staggered downstairs, and had to laugh when Aaron shouted across the carpark that I’d kept everyone waiting!!! I rode without a cap (and it was nice not to have to put sunscreen on), and while my legs initially felt OK, I had this horrible knot in my stomach and felt like I was about to throw up for the duration of the ride.
Aaron was just in front of me, and was constantly checking on my position, and relaying forward requests to speed up or slow down. Stu was hovering behind, and every now and then would push me up to Aaron’s wheel if I’d drifted off it.
It was a fascinating TT course – a great surface throughout, but a lot of climbing. There were a couple of heinous pinches in the last 10km, and by this stage, the fact that I’d ejected most of my dinner the night prior, and had no breakfast started to rear its ugly head. Halfway up what was probably the steepest section of road of the entire tour, I had to pull off into someone’s driveway to rally my forces, and I had to make yet another stop before it was all done.
Paul was a great help over those last few kilometres and seemed to be delighting in pushing me up stuff! On one steep stretch, he was on one side and Stu the other, and I honestly don’t know if I’d have been able to get through without them.
At the end, I felt terrible, but there were no more signs of trouble from my digestive tract. I realised I’d dodged quite a number of bullets – had that happened a day earlier, there’s no way I could have got over the mountainous route of Stage 19. I’ll be eternally grateful to the team for not just letting me sleep it off, and in many ways, having this bad day, and being beneficiary of the support of the rest of the guys, was an enriching experience. As Paul said when I thanked him for his pushing: “just returning the favour”.
The dramas of the day were not over – our TGV from Biarritz to Paris was cancelled due to a fire in Paris, and rather than arrive at our hotel at 7pm, we ended up on a regional train to Bordeaux, and a van drive through to Tours. The bug which hit me seems to have gone as quickly as it came – I finally felt hungry at about 8pm, and what I ate then seems to have stayed put. I’m back to feeling usually tired, rather than abnormally so!
One stage remains, but this was a stark reminder that the show isn't over until the fat lady sings.
This blog describes a fundraising project for the Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand.
Nearly 50% of New Zealanders will experience a mental health problem in their lifetime, and one in five will have experienced a mental illness this year.
Depression is set to overcome heart disease as the biggest global health burden by 2020.
The Mental Health Foundation (MHF) is a charity that works towards reducing stigma and discrimination associated with mental illness. We provide free support, training, and resources for anyone who is going through a difficult time, or for people who are supporting loved ones.
Stage 19 in isolation is probably not the toughest route of
the 2018 Tour, with the climbs not being as long as the Madeleine and Croix de Fer in the alps, nor as steep as the climbs in Stage 10. But, coming at the tail end of the tour, in all likelihood it would feel like
the hardest.
As we become accustomed to, the weather was fine and clear when we rolled out of Lourdes just after 0700. I enjoyed recognising some of the roads I’d ridden twice in 2013 – once while replicating (the first part of a stage), and again between Lourdes and St-Gaudens.
Anticipating a very long day, we were on the road early
One disadvantage of the early start was that we were away before the flechage guys, but they passed us for good in Bagneres-de-Bigorre. We’ve seen them on the road most days, and they always give us a lovely toot and big smiles – it really feels as though they’re genuinely happy to see us, and certainly the opppsite is true.
After Capvern, which we approached on a road I hadn’t used, we made the turn up the valley to the base of the Col d’Aspin. I’d been quite introspective, and I could feel my mood dropping as a result. I’d been contrasting the solo experience I’d had in 2013, during which I’d been nearly constantly in awe of my surroundings, and completely relaxed throughout (an occasional bit of accommodation anxiety or laundry rage aside), with this current shared experience, which feels much more like everyday life, complete with its pressures, obligations and frustrations.
As my mood dropped, I struggled to hold wheels, and at one point I dropped my chain, and had to stop on the roadside to sort it out. I yoyoed off the back of the group until they pulled into a layby about 3km out from the base of the Aspin.
After a wee, I rolled out alone, hoping to pretend for a few minutes that it was just me, my bike and these roads. Without willing it so, my pace ratcheted up and up – literally a few minutes earlier I’d felt unable to keep up with my companions, but not my brain had woked up, and in turn, fired up my legs.
I could hear someone had come with me, and about 30 seconds from the turn onto the climb, I could hear Jason suggest I slow down. I waved back dismissively, but didn’t say anything. Had I, it might not have been particularly polite.
We made the turn onto the climb together, but very soon after, I could tell I was alone. Man, it felt glorious to fly, and to have only myself to worry about. About 4km from the top, my legs started to falter somewhat, but by then it didn’t matter – the mini-rampage had served its purpose, and I could feel that my brain had reset.
When I got to the top, I received the biggest smile I’ve yet seen from Roger, who’d become accustomed to Jason being the first to the top of every major climb. He arrived just under 6 minutes later, and the rest of the boys about the same again.
A benefit of the hammer-fest was some time to sit and admire the view, And what a view it was, looking over to Peyragudes, and understanding better the parcours of Stage 17 as a result.
It was lovely to sit in the sun, and soak up the view
About half way down the descent, my bike started squirming a bit on the corners, and I diagnosed a puncture in my rear wheel. David gave me a hand to replace the tube, and luckily Bill passed in the van so we were able to fill it with the big pump.
We probably pushed a little too hard down the valley into Campan, and then made the turn onto the Tourmalet. I’d been unable to ride this back in 2013, and had been delighted to see that it was featuring this year.
Even if my legs had been willing (which they most certainly weren’t), I was in no mood to rush this, and spent the climb riding with Aaron, occasionally giving him a bit of a push, to effectively mellow out the gradient.
Looking back down the valley mid-way up the Tourmalet
There were lots of people out riding, and in the ski-resort of La Mongie, there was a surprising police presence.
Avalanche shelter!
Aaron, on the road just below La Mongie
As we passed through the ski village, I noticed two of the signage vans and stopped to say hi - interacting with these guys has definitely been a highlight of the tour, and it was unlikely that we'd see them again.
The final kilometres were hot, but the views were wonderful, and the summit beckoned.
At the top, Jonathan minded my bike while I ducked into the souvenir shop for a fridge magnet, and on the way out I spoke briefly to Frank Schleck, reminding him that we’d met back on Stage 10 (one day ahead)!
The last few metres on one of the most famous road climbs there is
I didn't bother queuing!
I rode the descent with Mike and David, and what a long one it was!
Looking down towards Luz Saint-Sauveur
At Argeles, we turned off towards the Col du Soulor. From the profile, it was clear we’d soon deviate from the main route, since there was an extra descent after the Col des Borderes.
It had become ridiculously hot (38 degrees, at times), so a village fountain at the turnoff gave an excellent opportunity to cool down a bit. Paul had stopped in Argeles for a reportedly wonderful public toilet experience, but I soon found myself riding alone again.
The valley road was lovely, and while the adjacent river looked incredibly refreshing, I resisted the temptation to go for a swim. The final kilometres were steeper, and just over the Col, I met Jonathan who advised that Roger was parked in the village below with some food.
When I got there, Aaron, Bill and Julie were also there, and they pointed out Stu and Bruce on the road above. Steven and Jason were in the process of riding back down to the turnoff, having ignored the arrows directing them off the main route (and the subsequent lack of them) – ouch!
Looking back at the Col des Borderes from the main route up the Soulor
We’d all regarded this stage as the last major hurdle, and as such the climb up to the Col du Soulor was really the last battle, and one I enjoyed immensely. It had been a long day, but one which I’d enjoyed a lot – from my solo smash up the Aspin, to riding with Aaron on the Tourmalet, and now, some nice solo time on the final big climb.
The sheep were wearing large collars with bells on, and were making quite the racket!
Cattle grate? Poor lack of attribution, apparently!
I grabbed my jacket and helmet from Jonny at the top, and then cruised the somewhat incredible road through to the Col d’Aubisque.
Horses at the Col du Soulor
An incredible rock tunnel cut into an incredible road
There, I found Stu and Bruce in an elated state, and a few minutes later we started the 20km descent to the finish together.
I remembered the sights on this bit of road to be particularly stunning, but a combination of the descending speed, and thick cloud we were in, meant I hardly saw anything!!!
Not long after we’d arrived at the finish line, Aaron pulled in, and we embraced – man he’s ridden out of his skin over the last three weeks, and it has been so impressive to watch, and be part of. A multiple Coast to Coast finisher, the last few months are the only time in his life he’s been a dedicated cyclist.
Paul and Mike arrived in, and then Steven and Jason, the latter looking particularly shell-shocked after their unfortunate extra distance and climbing.
We bundled into the vans to start the 170km transfer to our accommodation a few kilometres from the start of the TT course, glad to have this epic day under our belts.
This blog describes a fundraising project for the Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand.
Nearly 50% of New Zealanders will experience a mental health problem in their lifetime, and one in five will have experienced a mental illness this year.
Depression is set to overcome heart disease as the biggest global health burden by 2020.
The Mental Health Foundation (MHF) is a charity that works towards reducing stigma and discrimination associated with mental illness. We provide free support, training, and resources for anyone who is going through a difficult time, or for people who are supporting loved ones.
After two Pyreneen stages with plenty of climbing, the organisers decided to give the few sprinters remaining in the race a chance to shine. For us, it looked like a good stage to recover on.
After a short drive from Tarbes, we parked up by a pretty cool roof, and got ourselves sorted.
A minute or so into the ride, we passed the French women getting organised in the town square - the only time we'd see them today.
The first few kilometres were neutralised, as indicated by the cross hatching on the directional arrows (my hat's off to Mike, for noticing this subtle difference very early on in the piece).
The depart reel is indicated by two vertical arrows...
... and finally, we could start counting down the kilometres.
The stage had few highlights - not many towns to speak of, though one did have a stunning wee lake, apparently with otters in it - but even so, there were a few "camping cars" sprinkled around the place. It's quite remarkable where people park up one day early!
I spent a lot of time on the front today, partly because I'm feeling strong, partly because I just wanted to get the stage over and done with, and also because it is one of the few places in the bunch that I can truly relax.
For about half an hour before the second food stop at the 115km mark, I became increasingly uncomfortable, but luckily a bit of stretching in the back of Roger's van sorted things out nicely, and I was able to complete the final 60km without further problems.
We finished in Pau at around 3pm - one of our earliest finishes yet. There's a grandstand waiting for tomorrow's finish, but few other obvious hints that something big is about to go down.
This van is supporting a group of two riders who are raising money for muscular dystrophy
As it turned out, the short stage we'd completed yesterday hadn't started until 3:15. We were far too early for dinner, so went in search of a place to watch it on TV. By chance, we ended up at the hotel where Team Sky, Astana, and BMC look about to stay at. Sky had no fewer than four large vehicles parked up already (despite the team being less than an hour deep into the stage)!!!
Holy resources, Batman!
We retired to the bar, and ordered a drink each - hopefully enough to buy us sufficient time to watch the TV for a while. We'd missed them on the Peyresourde, but were able to watch most of the second climb.
This is pretty much the first time we've seen more than a few minutes of the Tour on TV
I'd predicted a sub-2h45 finishing time, but it was astonishing to see Nairo Quintana knock off the stage in 2h21 and change, with the maillot jaune not far behind.
Our extra-curricular activities have been few, but diverse, and this afternoon's viewing really did add to what was an otherwise pretty dull day.
After our final dinner at Flunch (where the food is relatively tasty, but the calories ingested per hour is an order of magnitude greater than the more upmarket places), we drove to Lourdes. I have a lovely view of the Gave du Pau, and unlike last time I was here, it is flowing under the bridges, not over them!!
This blog describes a fundraising project for the Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand.
Nearly 50% of New Zealanders will experience a mental health problem in their lifetime, and one in five will have experienced a mental illness this year.
Depression is set to overcome heart disease as the biggest global health burden by 2020.
The Mental Health Foundation (MHF) is a charity that works towards reducing stigma and discrimination associated with mental illness. We provide free support, training, and resources for anyone who is going through a difficult time, or for people who are supporting loved ones.
