Tour de Yorkshire: Le Grand Départ 05/07/14

When Leeds and Yorkshire won the rights to host Le Grand Départ of the 2014 Tour de France, I thought is would be quite an event and provide a grand day out for fanatics and spectators of cycling throughout the north country, but my actual interest in going to see it myself were pretty limited. I've never been much of a cyclist, last riding regularly when there were 8s in the year, and as a fan my interest in Le Tour was strong during the Miguel Indurain years and lapsed hard due to the 'dominance' of Lance Armstrong, only to revive again when Great Britain hatched a scheme to dominate track cycling through the 2008 and 2012 Olympics. Having Bradley Wiggins and Chris Froome winning in consecutive years ensured that would never be a better occasion to have three days of racing in these isles, but my distaste for crowds and the chaos that comes with them had my mind entirely prepared to be heading in the completely opposite direction, for wandering alone where I could continue to enjoy the solitude. Only it was when less than a week until the curtain raiser did I find myself actually engaged by the prospect, thanks largely to my Sister's encouragement, and a scheme had to be hatched to get me to the roadside, in a spot that might be relatively quiet, and that would have to involve some outside the box thinking, and so on to Wharfedale, for my only visit for the entire year.

Le Grand Départ: Burley in Wharfedale to Guiseley  4.4 miles

Rail Trauma at Morley

An early start is essential when reports are suggesting that more then a Million people are expected to be lining the 118 miles of roads that the first day will be taking from Leeds to Harrogate via the Dales, but even starting out for the 7.56am train out of Morley seems to be a fool's errand as the crowd awaiting it is larger than any group of commuters that I have seen, even when trains have mysteriously disappeared from the schedule. When it does arrive, Northern Rail are not shown to be covering themselves in glory, as they've sent a 142 pacer on the service, a stupid little two carriage unit that barely has any capacity at the best of times and is completely rammed to the gills today. It departs having not let a single person on board, so I have to flex my ingenuity to cross to the westbound platform, to catch the train to Dewsbury instead, knowing that the promise of extra coaches has no been fulfilled and that extra services run by DRS are not going to provide any use to the irritable crowds waiting at Morley and Batley. At least the TPE services stop at Dewsbury to give the option of catching an opening, and the first to arrive has all the people who missed the local service cramming into it, fitting us all in by invading the first class compartment and I don't think there's a railman in the county who would challenge us in these circumstances. Slowly roll our way to Leeds, eventually, where the scenes are not as chaotic as they could be, but still exceed any regular travel scenario, but I'm glad to not be going anywhere near the barrier, figuring that few people will be travelling out to Wharfedale when the bike race is starting in the city.


The A65 gets taken over

That analysis turns out to be completely wrong, and the 9.02am train to Ilkley is already filling up when I arrive and also squeezes in people to well past capacity point by the time it sets off, rolling very slowly out towards Wharfedale, enduring long stops at Menston and Guiseley as more crowds wonder why there are so many people travelling on their local trains. I'd feel bad for taking their spot if it wasn't for the fact that they really do live close enough to walk to one of the valley's spectator hubs, and I jump off when the third stop rolls up at 9.35am, Burley in Wharfedale, which I assume will be quieter than the major draws at Otley and Ilkley, but the crowds descending Station Road indicate that there are still plenty of locals and visitors in the area, and my perceived 'quiet' vantage point is going to be nothing of the sort. The crowds divide on Main Street, but only because there are three access points to the A65 bypass where the riders will be passing, and as I head for the western traffic island it becomes apparent that my planned destination at the section where the dual carriageway ends is not going to work out as a grandstand has been assembled upon it and stewards are shooing people away from the roundabout to prevent congestion. So a spot has to found along the bypass itself, where crowds are already filling up the central reservation, and I have to go a couple of hundred metres along before I can slot into a gap between two larger parties of folks, to gain my own spot by the crash barrier with a good sight line off to the east. The extended family to my right are good company, but the group to my left are less favourable, a group of post-grads, no less, all southern, all posh and with far too much braying laughter, extended vowel sounds and weird abbreviations, indeed when someone says 'Holibobs', it's really hard to resist the urge to get punchy, not the sort of people I like in close proximity..


Welcome to Yorkshire!

But anyway, my attention is here to be turned to the cycling, still over 2 hours distant when I've set out my stall, though there is still enough happening on the westbound carriageway to grab the attention as it passes by. The road turns out to be a lot more open than you'd think, still open to every amateur and club cyclist that wants to have a moment in the spotlight, and the passing merchandise vans can garner a lot of attention, at least once the people have gained an understanding of their announcements, which they still insist in making in French. There's also the police, in ridiculously huge numbers, processing in their own motorcades, and it's puzzling as to why so many members of the Gendarmerie have been brought over to ride their motorcycles on the route, and I figure that most of West Yorkshire constabulary are out on these roads today, and I doubt they have ever felt so appreciated in their lives as every passing cavalcade garners applause and cheers. Real excitement starts when the Caravanne starts to pass around 10.20am, the promotional hoopla which allow the Tour's sponsors to get an excess of free promotion, and it's good to see that the Welcome to Yorkshire get prominent placement at the head of the convoy, just behind the Tour's lead vehicles, as the tourism organisation has really done themselves proud in their work to get the Tour de France in the county. Another notable winner has to be Skoda, as nearly every official race car and team vehicle is an Octavia, so it's good to see the company has become a picture of reliability and efficiency after decades of being perceived as a joke, the only French car to be seen is an ancient soft top Renault, complete with an strapped-in accordion playing man perched on its back seat, for extra Gallic flavour.

Soviet-inspired Fruit Shoot

Floats are the major order of most of the Caravanne, so tour sponsors can get maximum exposure for their money, some designed in such a way that you wonder where the driver is supposed to fit into it, and others taking an extremely creative approach to design, with both Fruit Shoot and Cono Sur favouring a design with their outsize bottles displayed as if missiles on a Soviet military parade, mounted on the back of Hackney Carriages in the case of the latter. McCain's Oven Chips have bought their own mobile bags and a whole mock tractor mounted on a waggon, whilst Bic advertise both Biros and lighters in a grand scale. Carrefour have brought an entire mountain range on their trucks, but will it make enough English people aware of a mostly French brand? and the same could be thought for other products that haven't crossed the channel to my knowledge, like Krys, RAGT Semeneces or Teisseire, though Region Nord - Pas de Calais do bring a timely reminder of an important centennial anniversary that shouldn't be forgotten, namely the outbreak of the First World War. Those that just brought a fleet of promotional cars like P&O Ferries and Festina must feel like they should have made a better effort to be distinctive, but we do find out that Sheffield Hallam University had their own fleet of branded Land Rovers, indeed who knew? We even get some vans throwing free samples of their wares to the crowd, safe enough if it's a bag of Haribo, less so if it's a box of Yorkshire Tea, which hits one of our Hooray Henrys squarely in the head, to much hilarity. That's a solid 25 minutes of excitement before the road reverts to use by mostly police and club cyclists, and that's cue to grab an early lunch and watch for antics in the crowd, and many kids out playing and cycling ensure entertainment during the quiet minutes.



The Early Breakaway

Helicopter action starts to become apparent after 11am, as the riders have set out from Leeds for an hour of processional riding before the official start at Harewood House, and around 11.40am, the parade of team cars and police starts through, in such numbers that you wonder how so many people and vehicles are needed on the race, especially when those preceding it don't have an obvious support function. Discounting the Caravanne, I'm pretty sure that there must be well in excess of 200 cars, vans and motorcycles on the road, so even if you think that the race is done within a few minutes, there must be an hour's worth of traffic on the roads. Passing the official start at 12pm, the excitement starts to build, with the air so thick with helicopters that we could be in an outtake from Apocalypse Now, and every passing vehicle is thought to maybe herald the arrival of the race, even though a check on any mobile device would tell you that the race is still some minutes distant. The cue is thus taken from following the path of the helicopter that is obviously tracking the race, and recalling the priority of vehicles on the road, press preceding police, followed by the official car of the race director, and after that, at 12.21pm the early breakaway riders hurry through, already so far ahead of the field that some spectators assume that they are not actually part of the race at all. They are though, three of them, Benoit Jarrier and Nicholas Edet are a pair not recognisable to me, but I do know the name of Jens Voigt, the oldest man on the Tour and an inspiration to cyclists over the age of 40 everywhere, a cyclist noted for his combative style and bidding for a day of fame in what is probably his last racing season.



Team Sky

The Peloton

More than 2 minutes pass before the Peloton comes into view, going at quite a speed on this level road, with a number of teams grouped at the front to keep the pace up and a far cry from the chaotic mess of colours that can come along later in the stage, I guess all the legs are feeling fresh only 25 minutes into the day. Team Sky has positioned itself right up close to the front, so the crowd can see and vociferously cheer on Chris Froome and Mark Cavendish, the Kenyan and Manxman who are now our local heroes, and the whole mass of riders is an immensely powerful sight, and I'm glad I've had plenty of practise photographing the prior traffic so the I've got my technique down once all the real riders come through. The whole bulk of the Peloton right down to the back marker (having already had a mechanical problem this early in the day!) has gone through in only a minute, but the procession of team cars and official vehicles takes three more to follow on, carrying more bicycles than could ever possibly needed, and just trying to absorb the logistics of the whole event makes my head hurt, and the race has officially passed once the Fin de Course van has moved on, leaving the road clear for club cyclists and amateurs to resume their dreams of glory, mere minutes behind the greatest bike race on earth. All done in six minutes, and many would wonder if it is worth it to see a bunch of cyclists race  past you at speed, to which I can only say Hell Yes, it really is quite an experience, one that could almost be described as a carnival atmosphere, and Burley in Wharfedale really has pulled out all the stops to provide entertainment and sustenance for the thousands who have descended on the village, I'd be tempted to join in and linger if it wasn't for me feeling crowded out and somewhat sore after too many minutes of standing bent over a crash barrier at an awkward angle.

Reclaiming the Streets

I had hoped to tack on an additional walk to the day, heading over Burley Moor towards Baildon or Shipley, but I'm feeling a bit too tired for that, and I'm going to have to put some miles on anyway as there's no public transport in Wharfedale that isn't trains, and I don't fancy another rail trauma to add to the one that I endured in the morning. The walk was to be functional and necessary, so not really inclusive to my 1,000 mile trip, but I've decided to count them anyway as I'm not going to get another opportunity to include the A65 Burley bypass on a walking day, so they go on, and I'm going to need exercise to justify my lunch as well. Head east as the spectators and fans start to dissipate, or rather clog up the exit points along the bypass, and a keen eye and ear are needed to keep clear of the many two wheeled folks out on the road, and there may be no actual traffic on the A65, but that doesn't mean there's no risk of getting run down. It's almost a Reclaim the Streets atmosphere out on the bypass, part of you wishes it were possible to picnic out on the road as it will be some hours before the traffic is returned, but I cannot linger as I need to put down three miles in the coming hour, heading for the gap between Rombalds Moor and Otley Chevin , at least once the long mile of the bypass has ended and the Bradford Road - Burley Road section of the A65 is met and an ascent away from Wharfedale can start. It's a familiar bunch of profiles on the horizons, and suburbia next to the fields surrounding us as around a hundred other people make the walk towards Menston in the hope of improved transport prospects, but I'm going to press on to Guiseley as that is were the nearest available bus can be found, as well as lunch at the Wetherby Whaler, a satisfying fill up before catching the #33 for an hour+ trip back to the city.

Leeds Town Hall

I'm not going to make for home right away, instead getting off at the bus station to take a wander through Leeds city centre to take a proper look at the decoration of the city before it all moved on. There's banners along the length of Eastgate, still barricaded off and showing its symmetrical profile for the last time before the demolition of its southern side is completed so the city can have its sixth shopping centre, and the Headrow looks good quiet, with art works describing the cycling routes along various telephone junction boxes and adornments added to the front of a couple of pubs, whilst the people have all bee crowded onto Briggate to watch the unfolding race on the big screen, making that road's foot traffic problems even worse. The Light has been renamed La Lumiere for the occasion and the plan tub along the central reservation clad in yellow, green and polka dots, but missing out on white, disappointingly. The grandstands opposite the Art gallery have gone already, but the merch stands and hoopla remain, and a decent crowd remains outside the Town hall, which I can hope retains its dressing for the duration of the tour, as that would be a nice touch, and the Town hall tavern and Makin Dixon Solicitors win the awards for the best dressed establishments along the road, whilst even the vacant shops opposite the town hall have been yellowed up for the occasion. The other corner of the town to do well is City Square, and much has been made of the Yellow jerseys added to the statues of the Black Prince and Even, but despite looking like the works of pranksters, they were officially sanctioned, and my favourite Tour street art has to be the old red phone boxes repainted in the four tour colours and advertising cycling routes in difficulties ranging from today's Stage One to a short trip along the canal. I also wonder if the city has any second hand bikes left too, as so many have been sprayed yellow and deposited around the city, and it's also possible that some might linger in the landscape for a while, like the one hung on the Park Plaza hotel.

Even dressed up in Yellow

Homeward bound through the railway station, where normal Saturday service seems to have been resumed, much to the relief of Northern Rail's staff I'm sure, and I hope that the various colourful decals and cycle tracks stuck onto the walls and floor of the overbridge are allowed to stay there for a long time, as it would be as good a venue as any for a lasting memorial for the biggest day in Leeds sporting history, ever? Back to Morley just in time to see my video tape run out (yes I still use one of those) and to catch the last minutes of the cycling day as the Tour arrives in Harrogate, as my homeward trip has taken nearly as long as the entirety of Stage One, to see Marcel Kittel claim the stage win and to see Mark Cavendish crash out painfully in the race to the line. All told, a day in the North Country that maybe a million people out on the streets and roadsides won't be forgetting in a hurry, but sadly the only day of it that I will be catching in person, as my opportunity to see Stage two roll right past the front door of my friends in Mytholmroyd is passed up because I am feeling the need for sleep, and cannot honestly face another day of traumatic transport that might abandon me in Calderdale. Still, it's worth catching on the TV so that I can see the many places between York and Sheffield that my wandering has taken me along the route of Stage Two, as well as reacting with awe at the crowds that have accumulated on Blubberhouses Moor, Blackstone Edge and Holme Moss, as well as enjoying the presentation of long-time favourites, Gary Imlach, Phil Ligget and Paul Sherwen, and hoping that someone along the way might say to Ned Boulding 'Ey Up, Lad, are you Chris Boardman?'.

Next on the Slate: I am definitely walking to Barnsley.


1,000 Miles Cumulative Total: 1169.2 miles
(2014 total: 256 miles)

(Up Country Total: 1089.8 miles)
(Solo Total: 953.8 miles)
(Declared Total: 961 miles)