Tour of Britain, Stage 8, London

 Ah, Sunday morning in merry old London, town of my birth and most of my upbringing. Final day of the Tour of Britain - ITT in the morning, Crit of 8 laps in the afternoon.

And I was a Schlecklander On A Mission. To get a musette.

Remember my Tweet conversation with Ken Sommer?

I'd asked him about the best way to get one, and he'd kindly replied that all I had to do was ask one of the soigneurs.

Sadly, he didn't seem to "get" my joke about standing 15% beyond the feed station, which is a reference to the insanely complicated time-out rules, which dictate how long riders have to finish a stage after the leader gets home.

It all depends on the average speed of the race, you see, and the commentators are always completely unable to explain it clearly.

Well, I thought it was funny....

Anyway: right, that was easy enough - find the Leopard bus, find a soigneur, ask. I can do that.

The tube was pretty much empty that early on a Sunday, but I was still glad that I'd decided that my big flag was just too big, and had only taken my little flag.

And even that got some strange looks!

But it was well worth it... as you will see shortly.

We arrived at about 10am and walked down towards the Embankment. Ooh, look, there's the Leopard truck, down a side street. Shall I go and ask for a musette? No - it's far too early, they'll be just unpacking everything and getting warmed up, they won't want to be bothered by fans. I'll go later.

There weren't exactly huge crowds, but most of the barriers were already up, and there was quite a lot of bustle and activity around the route.  There were dozens of very friendly road marshalls, who were quite happy to hold the barriers aside and allow us to cross the roads, as long as there weren't any cars or cyclists coming.

Cyclists?

Er - isn't that Mark Cavendish?

Yes, it was Cav, just wheeling along gently. Somewhat awkwardly, we managed not to say "Wotcher, Markie" but just watched him go past.

Then a couple of Sky boys went past. Er - wasn't that Alex Dowsett? And G?

Whuuuuuum... time trial bikes. Wow, they really do make that funny noise. All around us were the riders, warming up, checking out the course, or just wheeling around lazily. Amazing.

We turned left towards the start/finish area.

Oh look, there's the Leopard Trek bus again. Shall I go and ask for a musette? Nah, it's far too early, they'll be in the middle of preparations and all nervous and busy.. I'll go later. But I'll just take a photo of the team cars, to prove that I was really here.

There you go, photos of Leopard cars, really in London.  Ooh, look, there's the truck, and the bus: and one of the mechanics ("Frank", according to the L-T website) looking very teutonic and forbidding. No, I won't ask for a musette just yet.

We strolled casually - oh! so casually! - a little nearer to the bus: darn, all the windows are blacked out. And as you can see, there are several pushy bolder-than-me fans taking photos through the door. I suppose they might have been journalists....

And here is the warming-up area, under the pull-out awning of the truck. The bikes were all lined up, on rollers, ready for use. Each with a natty little blue towel draped over the front wheel, ready for use. Take a note of the fangirl with the red hair - every single time I went anywhere near the bus, she was there! Must have been a fan. Was this you? If so, do say so!

After a while, musette-less, we wandered up to the start, admired the ramp, then wandered through the back streets towards the route for a while, looking for a good place to stand.

Oh - is that Cav again, wheeling gently past us? Er - what do we do? Look awkward and keep walking. Right.

The sun was shining, and it was jolly hot (a little unusual for the UK in mid September) so we found a good shady place, with yards and yards of barriers but no spectators. Ha! we thought, this will do!

Sound of bicycle wheels behind us - blimey, it's Cav again. Is he following us? Still too embarrassed to say anything, we avert our eyes and walk up to the barrier.

It was still just a bit before 11, so we stood and chatted (for which read, we stood and giggled like a pair of six-year-olds, and I practised waving my flag and not hitting LLB in the face with it) and watched the passers-by, trying to work out how many of them were in London for the cycling. Not a lot, we decided! A pair of girlies walked past us about three times, and I swear they were looking at my Lux socks. Could they be Andy fans? Could they be shy Schlecklanders? If that was you, do say so! (And why didn't you say hello?!) 

Oh, of course: imagine going up to a complete stranger in the middle of London, thinking it might be me: how on earth do you start the conversation?

"Err, hello."
Me: "Hallo"
"Err, are you here for the cycling?"
Me: (Face clearly says: I am hanging over the barrier, waving a Leopard flag, what do you think I'm here for?) "Oh, yes."
"Err, 'scuse me for asking, I notice you have a Leopard flag, errm, you wouldn't be Cougar Girl, would you?"
Me: (only of course it's not me, it's a complete stranger) "What are you talking about? Do I look like a cougar? How dare you insult me..." etc etc.

The actual conversation is more likely to be:

"Err, hello"
Me: (the real me, this time) "Oh, hallo!" (interested tone of voice) "Are you here to watch the cycling, too?"
"Umm, well, yes."
Me: "Exciting, isn't it? Even though nothing has actually happened yet. But they're due to start in a couple of minutes, and we're hoping to have a good view of them here. Have you seen a Time Trial before?"
"Err, no, but me and my friend Elsa (indicates other girlie, standing silently with crimson face) have come up for the day to see the Leopard Trek boys."
Me: "Well, (laughs) you can see that I'm a Leopard fan, too."
"umm, yes, I, umm, noticed your socks. Are they the Luxembourg socks?"

Oh dear, I can't go on, it would take forever! I suppose the best way would be to just shout "COUG!" loudly and see if I jumped. Oh, no, that wouldn't work, as everyone for yards around would turn round and look. OK, audience participation time: how do you meet up with other fans if you don't know what they look like? I'd be interested to hear....

Back to the event - after the "sock" incident, it was around this time that someone was making a video of the event, and well done to Karalara for spotting it!

Here it is:  Tour of Britain 2011 from Sylvain Cruiziat. It's not a very good video, it doesn't play particularly smoothly, so here's the frame at 1:14 in - yes, that's The Coug. In case you can't make head nor tail out of it, I have the flag over my shoulder and I'm looking away, to the left. There you go, fame at last.

On the previous evening, we'd taken the trouble to print off a start list, so we knew what order they'd be in, and what time to expect them, and this proved to be great fun - we were able to shout "Go, Name-of-rider, Go!" at each one, which impressed everyone who passed near to us.

"How do they know the names of all the cyclists?"
"I don't know, dear, perhaps they are part of the cycle race?"
"I don't think so, but they seem to know every single rider, by name!"
"Well, they have a flag that I've never seen before..."

In fact, one spectator came up to us and asked where we'd bought the start-list from! Memo to self: next time, print off a dozen copies and sell them for a fiver each....

We'd inadvertently picked a good spot, it was round the first corner of the course, so they were all on time, and were just picking up speed. Also, for some reason, they were coming very, very close to us. So close that I didn't dare wave my flag over the barrier, but had to pull it in each time, just before the rider whooshed past.

This was why:

See that grating? They were aiming to miss the grating by going between it and the barriers.

Yes, they were THAT close!

We stood and cheered for every single rider, quite indiscriminately, which was great fun. They were appearing at one-minute intervals, which gave us just time to check who they would be, have a brief discussion of what we knew about them, and decide what we would shout. Depending on nationality.

"Vite, Mathieu!"
"Go, Ronan!"
"Go, Swifty!" (with extra big cheers and yays, as he's a Sky boy)
"Hup, Preben!"
and, a little later,
"Go, Mr Brogdonas!"   - a touch formal, but we couldn't pronounce his first name.

After a while, in the gap between riders,  we were just changing our position slightly when we nearly walked into a cyclist on his TT bike, skinsuit, aero helmet, the lot, just wheeling slowly around in the street. "Whoops!" we said, leaning back out of the way. "Who's that?" said LLB. "Dunno," I replied "his number is 81." We scanned our start list. Oh. That was Thor Hushovd, that was. Yes, we nearly knocked Thor Hushovd off his bike. 

I cannot say too often - when you go to races, you get really, really close to the riders!

I did take some videos of the riders passing, but honestly, they're not very good. First you are blinded by the headlights of the motorcycle, then you get a head-on view of a TT helmet approaching, then whoosh! They are past and gone.

After Linus - highest ranked Leopard - had whizzed past, LLB twisted my arm and made me walk back to the Leopard bus, in search of a musette.

By now, they were mostly back at the bus, cooling off. As Mr Orange Head was there, I felt obliged for the sake of Leelu to take a photo of him. Here you are, Leelu: I've put them in full size so you can crop them if you wish (actually, they're not that good, but at least they are new!)

"Mum? Mum? Can you hear me? I'm in London. LONDON. Look, I'll call you back..."

And yes, you really are allowed to stand that close to them. I've read other reports on Bananas About Bikes where fangirls mention that they stood and watched them warming up or cooling down, and it's absolutely true, they take no notice of the spectators at all, they just get on with their routine. It's lovely!

 So professional, and so casual at the same time.

The Sky bus was very different, sadly: it was parked a bit further down the same street, along with several others, and they'd made a sort of enclosure of trucks so that you could only get in by invitation.

Leopard was much more open - they were opposite NetApp, one of the much, much smaller teams, who had a white transit van and a tiny little camper van, which did look just a bit sad, compared to the gleaming elegance of the Leopard entourage.

But I have to say, the NetApp team were much more approachable, and we saw several family groups walking around covered in NetApp hats, musettes, etc, so they were obviously keen to pass out the giveaways.

Shall I ask for a musette? No, I can't see a single soigneur. There's no-one around except the riders, and I certainly can't ask them. Oh well, some other time.

But then I saw a team member locking up one of the team cars, so I asked him, and guess what, he found me a musette! How kind! At first he said no - the kitchen is closed. But as I thanked him anyway and started to walk away, he took pity on me, and went into the truck to find one for me, which was very kind. LLB said afterwards that while I'd been taking photos of Dominic, he'd been looking at my Leopard flag, so perhaps he realised that I was a "fan" and not just a casual scrounger? Anyway, I got my musette, and wore it for the rest of the day.

Success!

And so to the afternoon: we ate our packed lunch on the Embankment, and walked most of the route, looking for good places to stand. There was plenty of room, and whole stretches of the route had no spectators at all. Even in the middle of London, at a weekend. I'm afraid cycling really is a minority sport in the UK. Possibly the Olympics will be different, but for us, it was very low-stress. We settled on a nice bench just past Waterloo Bridge, one of the many set up on plinths so you get a good view of the river, and which meant we could stand on the back of it and get a good view of the race.

That is the worst bit about spectating, I think: you find yourself a good position, and two minutes before the race passes, some swine steps in front of you and blocks your view.

Oh and of course, if you are spectating, you have no idea who won! Unless you are at the finish line and can see the big screens, I guess. But who cares!

Promptly on time, the race started, and if you've seen any of the coverage, you'll know that there was a break of two riders who stayed out nearly all the way. We waved and shouted encouragement as they went up the road on the other side.... then six minutes later came back down the road, on our side... then three minutes later went back up the road on the other side.... then six minutes later came back down on our side... and so on.

Crits are great! I hate to think how dull they must be for the riders, but for spectators - great! Lots of chances to try taking video - again, I took a couple but won't bore you with them, they're not very good, but as Miss Fede said, they do capture the excitement of the moment, and they bring it all back when you re-watch them later.

The police motorbikes were obviously getting a bit bored with riding sedately up and down the same route, they started playing games with the spectators, getting them to put out their hands to be "low five'd" as the bike passed. This worked very well most of the time, until the circuit where a female spectator on our side leant well out, determined to make contact, and received a solid policeman's leather glove at 20mph which span her round like a top and left her clutching her wrist and shouting "Ow!"  Hilarious!

Of course, there was the Alex Dowsett Incident, as reported separately, when a Sky rider lobbed a bidon out into the crowd and accidentally hit a spectator right on the forehead. Splat!  Of course, that was one circuit when neither LLB or I were filming it. Drat!

Then a couple of circuits later, another bidon came out of the peloton as they passed opposite, and this one landed right at my feet. "I don't want it," I said, smugly, "I already have one!" Yes, the kind man at Leopard Trek had put a bidon into the musette which he gave me. So I graciously allowed the spectator next to me to pick it up. 

In England, by the way, there's none of that fighting or scrabbling for bidons that you see in the Tour: the chap looked at it, looked at me - I said "No really, you can have it." and he said "Really?" so I replied "Please - help yourself, I already have one!" so he leant down and picked it up, offered it to me saying "Are you sure?" I smiled. "Really. You have it." "Thanks!" he said. See how nice and polite we are in England.

By the last couple of circuits it was raining, so we were getting a bit wet, and pretty cold, but we kept waving and shouting, right to the end.

Talking of waving, I waved my flag at the Leopard team car every single time it went past, and do you know what? The occupants didn't wave back, not once. Meanies. Possibly they were concentrating on the race, possibly. Maybe they were preoccupied with their uncertain future. But it's a bit mean to ignore the single, one and only Leopard flag in the WHOLE of London!

Anyway, the race continued, and was pretty much the same except for the last lap, when suddenly it all fell to pieces, and riders were dropped off the back in huge numbers. We shouted encouragement for the bunch, for the followers, for the team cars - one last attempt to get a smile out of the Leopard car, no luck - then for the stragglers, then for some more stragglers, then a couple more....

Oh, and in answer to the question of "do the riders hear what's being said" one of the Europcar riders was limping in all alone, and I shouted something like "Come on, keep going, nearly there!" and he gave me an absolutely filthy look! Of course, it could have been the fact that I was waving a flag which clearly indicated that I supported a different team... or he could have been just about exhausted and that was merely his face of pain.. who knows.

Eventually it was all over, and we started walking back towards the finish, along with the friendly spectator to whom I'd "given" the bidon.  He was following Twitter on his phone (dead clever) and before we were half-way back to the start, he told us that Cav had won, Renshaw second.

So we headed for home, and later that night we watched the TV coverage very carefully for signs of my flag. Alas, no decent sightings -well, only if you knew where to look. But we hadn't gone with the intention of "being seen", so that didn't matter.

If you do, by the way, wish to Be Seen, here are my tips.

Only stand by barriers that have advertising banners on them. Organisers know where the cameras are going to be, and advertisers won't pay for banners that won't be filmed.

Avoid the crowded corners - everyone goes there, you'll be lost in the crowd.

Look for the static cameras, which are usually at corners: work out which way they will be pointing and position yourself upstream of them. They leave them pointing upstream while the riders come into sight, so there's more chance of being seen upstream, than downstream.

Take a big flag and dangle it over the barrier. For safety, put ties on each corner and tie it loosely to the barrier. That way you can pick out where you are.

And there you have it: LLB and I are now officially "proper" cycling fans, we have been to stage races and a TT, and we've watched in the rain until the very end.  In one sense, it can't compete with the TV coverage, which is fantastic: but it's great to actually be there.  And here, at long last, is my musette: