Sunday, July 24, Stage Twenty-One. This was only the second time I've made it to Paris in time to ride the final stage into the city from one of its outlying suburbs, so I wasn't well versed in how eager the gendarmes would be to close down the course. They could either be extra draconian or they could be very relaxed about it, not wanting to antagonize and strangle the urban traffic. There were quite a few other cyclists riding the course. Most were MAMILs, but there was a fair representation of many of the other subsets of the cycling clan from kids to grandmothers.
Even though Chantilly was less than twenty-five miles from the center of Paris by a direct route, it was more of a distinct city than a suburb. It had a chateau and was surrounded by a large forest and farmland. The Tour route passed through a couple of other distinct towns before it entered the great Paris metropolis. Once I reached the extended city I no longer feared being halted, as there were sidewalks to ride and parallel streets.
With all the cyclists on the route I didn't have to be much concerned with going astray. There is a greater chance that course markers will be prematurely appropriated by eager fans or delinquents in urban environments, but the markers seemed to be pretty much in place. I did though come upon a cyclist in the act of stuffing a marker up the backside of his jersey.
He was stopped at a light and was accompanied by two women. He asked them in English with an American accent, "Is it well enough hidden? If he had been thinking, he would have put the bright, distinctive yellow side against his back and the bland white side facing out, but the women said it looked okay.
I was appalled at this act of vandalism. A course marker is a highly coveted object by all Tour followers, but there is a near universal sense of honor among them to leave them in place until after the peloton has passed. Then they are fair game.
