The Tour of Britain finished last week, and I hope I'm not spoiling anyone's surprise by saying that Garmin-Sharp's Dylan van Baarle took a shock win. Van Baarle gained the overall lead on the penultimate day, Saturday's stage 7, and I went along to watch the race as it passed Ditchling Beacon on the way into Brighton.
Ditchling Beacon, as you may know, is Brighton's local mountain. I've mentioned it in passing before - it was the scene of a gruelling summit finish on my first sportive of the year, The Puncheur, when I struggled up with a gammy leg in chilly, wet conditions. Conditions last weekend were a considerable improvement; the sun was out, along with hundreds of fans, as I parked the car in Ditchling city centre and span along the short road to the Beacon.
At the foot of the climb a couple of marshalls in orange jackets were taking a laid-back approach to security (in welcome contrast to the heavy handed kettling of fans earlier in the year on the Sheffield stage of the Tour de France) and I was allowed, along with a steady stream of fellow cyclists, to ride up the Beacon along the same road that the peloton were due to climb in 30 minutes' time.
All sorts of cyclists were out: you had the MAMILs of course, and the Y'MILs, but also plenty of civilians, both male and female, astride a creaking armada of mountain bikes, tourers, hybrids and fixies. There were even some people without bikes, using their feet to get up the hill - a novel concept.
I was in civilian mode myself, in baggy shorts and trainers, and the climb made me appreciate the wonder that is clipless (i.e. clip-in) pedals. A few times, particularly when weaving around walkers, my feet slipped precariously off the pedals and there was a general feeling of being untied - normally a good thing, but not in this context, entertaining as a tumble would be for the gathering fans.
Thankfully I kept my jester's hat in the locker, and instead enjoyed the tangible air of excitement and anticipation. This was heightened by the sight of freshly painted slogans daubed on the road - including a retro "Simpson" stencil in suitably vintage font, and a rather mysterious 'SUE" alongside the standard shout outs for Wiggins, Dowsett and Kittel. No records were set on the ascent, but I was probably still quicker than back in March.
If there were small knots of supporters along the roadside, by the time I reached the top the crowds had formed a veritable tangle: Sussex folk of all ages lined the roadsides two- or three-deep, their bikes laid in the grassy verges. I trundled past the flags marking the end of the KOM section then turned around and looked for a spot. There was nowhere free along the road itself, but plenty of room on the hillside above; I chucked my bike onto the grass (checking first for brambles) and pulled myself up next to it by the long grass.
There wasn't long to wait; after about 20 minutes the TV helicopter arrived. We all waved into the sky like a Pacific Island cargo cult, but the caravan (if there even was one) had passed by and no exotic gifts were forthcoming from the skies. Next a cheer rose up the hillside, passed up like a Mexican wave, closely followed by the breakaway led by none other than van Baarle himself.
I have to admit I had no idea who this anvil-chinned Garmin-Sharp rider was, nor did I recognise Marcin Bialoblocki (Giordana) or the third member of the break, the excellently named Ignatas Konovalovas of MTN Qhubeka. I took a few pictures, obviously, but more in the interests of getting my angles sorted for when the big guns arrived: fanboy that I am, I was looking for the current leader Alex Dowsett, and other contenders and star names like Kwiatkowski, Wiggins, Cavendish and Kittel. Shows what I know...
Behind this lead group the race had, as they say, been blown wide open and there were gaps of several minutes between the next few groups. This almost led to disaster as large numbers of spectators, assuming the entire race had passed, took to the road and began walking and cycling homewards. Into this flock of slow-moving sheep arrived a couple of motorcyle outriders, lights flashing, and puffing marshalls shouting to clear the roads: "more cyclists coming!"
Sure enough the main peloton, or what was left of it, crested the hill and sped off in what seemed like a hopeless pursuit of the leaders. I searched their faces for signs of pain as they passed - even a bead of sweat would have been nice - but in the main they appeared depressingly untroubled, considering this was the tail end of the longest stage on the Tour. But I think I'm right in saying that this was the third stage in a row in which the break had not been caught - so maybe the chasing pack were not quite as daisy-fresh as they appeared.
I snapped a couple of pics as Wiggins and Kittel cruised past - and shouted at Cav as he rolled by inches from where I stood. I somehow missed Kwiatkowski entirely, but maybe he was just moving too fast; it later emerged he'd smashed the Strava KOM for Ditchling Beacon with a time of 3'59".
The final few team cars trundled by, and soon the roads were ours again. I rolled down the Beacon and headed home in the hope of catching the race finale on TV.
And that was my day at the Tour of Britain 2014. I found it a surprisingly high-quality spectator experience; it was the combination of local roads and chilled out officiating wot done it for me. And best of all, unlike the sparing favours granted by the Giro and Tour de France, the Tour of Britain happens every year - so next time do pop out and have a look.
Those boys on their bikes are pretty impressive.
Ride it yourself
If you're missing the Tour of Britain, or simply fancy taking on the same roads they raced along this year, then you might be interested in this app from Ordnance Survey. The OS Ride the Tour app is free to download for iOS and includes maps of the Friends Life Tour of Britain stages and from the Women's Tour, as well as historical cycling routes. Some of the roads may be a little busy on a normal day - so take care, and do a bit of research before strapping on your aero helmet for a sprint down Whitehall.
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