Paris

We crammed 6 bikes into our first class TGV coach - 2nd class being crammed full of a group of panicked Australians squeezed in between their 2 dozen bike cases, and who had saved themselves about R100 each through their downgrade - and sat through our Saturday morning train trip with a fair amount of trepidation about how Paris would compare to the experiences we had had in the Alps, Sugar proclaiming loudly that he would be back as soon as possible to tick off any remaining recognised cols of any order and making it very clear that he is in no way a city kid.  The city would never offer the same sense of freedom and achievement that you can find in the remote high mountains.

The hotel - when we got there - was unusually welcoming and quite accommodating of our extensive luggage, although my inner cynic suspects they were being nice to make up for the fact that their aircon was off and Paris was in the middle of a heatwave.

Our accommodation is just 2 blocks from the finish on the Champs Elysees - and stepping out onto the finish circuit outside our hotel the next morning its suddenly clear to everyone that this element of the trip is going to be entirely worth it.

The planned victory lap felt like a 'critical mass' ride with a difference - not sure why anyone would want to race it. It is quite surreal to traipse around this hallowed ground.

Self portrait

The tour organisers had deemed that we should all wear yellow and 5000 Randonnee T-shirts get distributed through the crowd. The lap descends the cobbled straight with the Eiffel tower looming over your right shoulder, then right around the circle at the Place de la Concorde, passing the Tuilleries Gardens on the left, a drop into the tunnel beneath the
Louvre (someone crashes here in the melee on the downhill - their excitement clearly getting the better of their good judgement), up into the sunlight again and under the 1km to go kite (a bunch of clearly English and American riders have attempted to join the event, perhaps in frustration at being left out and in not getting their entries in order, and have been stopped here by a itinerant Parisian Policeman), and under the finish line as we watch the yellow mass that we are part of continue up the straight to the Arc de Triomphe while the tail of the group descends the other side of the avenue - the organisers have figured out just how many riders they can fit onto the 7.5km circuit and set the number of available entries accordingly. We have to settle for a spot a few rows back off the barriers, but we have a big screen and beer, and what else does one need anyway.

The late night finish means that we spend the night in Paris and sets up a shopping day for the Monday before we trek home. The bikes we disassemble out in the street and on the pavements to the ire of the regular Parisians who have emerged for their working week, although we hardly noticed. A week later and we're all still grinning and ready to tell anyone who will listen about the adventure.

Dinner, and a standing ovation each time one of the riders came past as they departed the finish area