Ringside at the Bike Race

“I just love that Neil Armstrong.”

At first it was hard to understand what the elegantly dressed woman was getting at. She had just walked out of a party across the road and sat down beside me on an old stone wall in the middle of Belgian farmland, 10 miles west of Antwerp.

Clutching a glass of red wine in one hand and an expensive-looking sweater in the other, she seemed out of place--and way overdressed--amid the hundreds of working-class people who lined the street, many of them wearing cycling gear (me included). Having abandoned work, school and other responsibilities on a Monday last July, most of us were content to sit quietly and wait. But the woman, perhaps to be polite, perhaps to pass the time, was trying to strike up a conversation. She seemed to be searching for something that a Belgian and an American might have in common.

Nice thought. Wrong guy.

Rather, it was cyclist Lance Armstrong who rocketed along that road 25 minutes later--amid the race entourage that included three low-flying helicopters; motorcycles bearing TV and still photographers; a parade of 100 or so Fiats loaded with officials, journalists, coaches and extra bicycles; and more than a few emergency vehicles.

Armstrong blurred past us in a streak of color, whipping around a C-shaped turn as he battled with the rest of the nearly 200 cyclists who made up the field at last year’s Tour de France, a more-than-2,000-mile bicycle race that captivates much of the world for three weeks each summer.

For Europeans, the Tour de France is the Super Bowl, college basketball’s Final Four and the Boston Marathon all wrapped into one. It is part carnival, part commercial promotion and more than a little athletic display. Cyclists from all over the world compete to wear the fabled yellow jersey by putting themselves through a series of 20 grueling stages that can stretch more than 145 miles in a single day.

For cycling fans--and my husband, Shawn, and I fall into that category--seeing the Tour de France in person is a pilgrimage. Unsatisfied with the abbreviated coverage then available on cable TV, we undertook a journey last summer to follow part of the Tour route, sometimes by car and sometimes on our bicycles. Getting a place along the route was easier than we had expected, and we were rewarded with a chance to experience firsthand the full extent of Tour mania.

That day in the Belgian farmland, Armstrong and the other cyclists rode so close to us that we could have touched them, were they not moving at breakneck pace, a half-hour from the finish line in a 135-mile stage. For these front-row seats, we paid nothing--but got a chance to see the spectacle as the locals do, in the middle of farmland, complete with cows standing watch as racers passed along country roads.

Our trip to this Tour, which Armstrong would go on to win, inspired our athletic pursuits for months to come--and gave us a better understanding of how our favorite sport is celebrated in the rest of the world.

Because of our vacation schedules, we chose to visit the Tour in its first week. After flying into Paris, we spent a few days in the French countryside near Bordeaux, where we got in a little relaxation and a good deal of bike riding before the main event.

Then, on the Tour’s first official day of racing, we drove back to Paris and traveled north to catch Stages 2 and 3 of the Tour as it briefly crossed into Belgium. With travel time, we spent almost three days following the Tour before returning to Paris for some more sightseeing and the trip home.

We had decided months before to take our bicycles--a choice that required a little bit of packing know-how but for which we were rewarded. Having bicycles with us allowed us freedom of movement; along the race route, we were able to move up and down the course with relative ease.

And so we disassembled our bikes, packed them in hard cases and sent them through as checked baggage at no extra charge. (Many airlines allow travelers to check bike boxes or cases as long as they are one of only two checked bags.)

To make travel on the other end easier, we requested a station wagon from our car rental company. For a small extra fee, we received a minivan that was large enough to accommodate the bikes, their cases and the cases of wine we bought along the way.

We mapped our journey using the Tour Web site (www.letour.fr), which provides a detailed description of the route well in advance, and its official program, which we purchased at a newsstand near Paris. We planned to stay in Antwerp, a city that hosted a stage finish one day and a departure the next, and from there, to visit towns a few kilometers from the stages’ start and finish lines.

Because almost 4,000 people, including support staff, sponsors and journalists, travel with the riders, hotel rooms are often scarce in the start and finish cities of each day’s stage. But they seemed plentiful at cities in between, and last year, we booked rooms up until a month before the Tour began.

We didn’t count on the extraordinary summer rains that closed the A1, the main artery from Paris to Antwerp, and the serpentine detour that caused traffic backups for miles in each direction. Well before our destination, we pulled off the road in a small French town called Noyon--birthplace of theologian John Calvin and home to the stunning cathedral of Notre-Dame, a 12th century Romanesque-Gothic building restored after it was damaged in World War I.

Across from the cathedral, we found Le Cedre, a hospitable 35-room hotel with a buffet breakfast that featured the best muesli we had in France and equally delicious croissants. Le Noviomagus, an elegant restaurant, had an excellent prix fixe menu featuring regional specialties, including the poulet braise (chicken), rice and fruit tart we tried.

As serendipity would have it, Stage 5 of this year’s Tour passed close to Noyon. Although the route changes significantly from year to year, the racers circumnavigate France, traveling clockwise around the country in odd-numbered years and counterclockwise in even years, often dipping into a nearby country--the 2002 Tour began in Luxembourg--and sometimes requiring air or train transfer. Some stages, including the epic climb up l’Alpe d’Huez, the team time trial and the final stage, which finishes on the Champs-Elysees in Paris, are fixtures.

After leaving Noyon, we drove the rest of the way, through mostly industrial towns with small city centers crowded around the highway, toward Antwerp. We parked our van about 15 miles outside the city in the town of Beveren, in one of the plentiful free lots near the course, which was well marked with Tour logos. It was about three hours before the anticipated arrival of the riders. (The Tour program, which sold last year for about $4, details the route of each stage, anticipating the approximate arrival time of the riders and their entourage to each city. Local newspapers had good maps as well; we relied on the Gazet Van Antwerpen to guide us in and out of the city on stage days.)

From Beveren we rode 18 miles of the course--which remains open at most points to foot traffic and bicycles until about an hour before the riders’ arrival--in reverse, stopping along the way to buy lunch, baguette sandwiches and drinks from a street vendor for just a few dollars. (Charging exorbitant fees for food at sporting events did not seem to be in the Belgian mind-set.) We ate along the side of the road in the farmland outside Stekene before the racers arrived.

A tour of the route could be as brief as an hour or two, but spending an entire day is a chance to experience a sporting event like no other and to live, for a few hours, as a local, no matter where you are. Taking in all of the sights was as much a part of the journey as watching the riders pass--and tourists are welcomed into the festivities.

In smaller Belgian towns like Vrasene, Sint-Gillis-Waas and Bilzen, the wait for the arrival of the riders took on a Mardi Gras-like atmosphere, as people hauled big-screen TVs into the street and neighbors huddled around radios listening for updates as the race moved toward them. Community groups grilled sausages for fund-raisers; bakeries sold sandwiches out of carts. Beer gardens were everywhere.

Both days, we staked out spots along the route, the first day sitting near a well-appointed house hosting a fete for 50 or so outside Stekene; the second, outside Bistro-Ellen, an outdoor cafe in Bilzen. It was along a straightaway inside what’s called the “feed zone,” the area in which team coaches provide their riders with water and food about halfway through each stage.

Most of the towns we encountered along the route, including Stekene and Bilzen, had small city centers along the main road, with a pub or two, a series of commercial buildings and little more.

After seeing the tour in Stekene, we spent a night in Antwerp, where we parked a few blocks from the hotel and crowded all of our luggage, including the bikes, into a small hotel room. Although the Hotel Agora, booked on the Internet in advance, was a disappointment, it did have a terrific view of the plaza across from Antwerp’s train station and the hotel where many of the teams were staying. (We got in a few good cyclist sightings from our hotel window.)

Before dinner at a local grill, where we feasted on Belgian frites, we cruised the streets of Antwerp on foot and found traces of the Tour everywhere, especially near the center of town.

An elaborate finish-line area, complete with massage booths for the athletes and a press center where they could get almost any newspaper in the world, was being turned into a starting line for the next day.

In sharp contrast to the finish-line bleacher seats, which are often reserved for the VIPs of a particular community, the common people prevailed farther out from the big cities along the route. Some pedaled, like us, on bicycles; others sat in well-appointed restaurants and waited for the main show to arrive, getting up from their chairs only to buy T-shirts, baseball caps and umbrellas emblazoned with the circular Tour de France logo from passing vans.

Flags are flown from buildings, mannequins are dressed in cycling jerseys and streets are painted with messages from fans to their favorite riders. One German fan, Didi Senft, known in racing circles as “the Devil,” has become such a fixture on the Tour that he has sponsorship from an auto-parts maker. Dressed in a red bodysuit, sporting a helmet with horns and a red-and-yellow pitchfork emblazoned with “Le Tour de France” along its base, Senft travels the Tour in a Volkswagen van. He paints three pitchforks on the cement near where he stands along the route.

The straightaway proved the ideal spot for greeting what amounts to the pre-game show: a 20-minute parade of sponsor vehicles called the Publicity Caravan, where excess is king and invention is key. The 2001 caravan included a 25-foot-tall statue of a cyclist atop a dune-buggy-like contraption; a fleet of test motorcycles driven by models; and three white minivans, laden with lettuce, cheeses, bread and other staples in super-size shopping carts on their roof and manned by employees of Champion, a French supermarket chain.

Most vehicles in the caravan toss paraphernalia to the crowds as they pass. Last year we caught, among other things, a specially designed bottle of water; a madeleine cookie; a sample of a new kind of sausage; key chains; hats; CD cases; and an oversized bright green cardboard “hand” from PMU, a horse race betting company that sponsors the Tour’s green jersey, given to the best sprinter among the racers. You’ll spot the hands, similar to the foam versions you might see at a Dodgers game, at every point along the route, and we felt fashionable just being able to wave one aloft as the riders passed.

About 10 minutes after the caravan had passed us, we got our first glimpse of the approaching procession; off in the distance, helicopters hovering low to capture the riders’ approach for a TV audience began to move slowly toward us.

A parade of official, media and team cars appeared along the route soon after, zipping along at up to 70 mph as they raced to get into position at the stage’s finish line. And then, finally, the riders themselves. The first day, two groups of riders that had broken away from the main pack (called a peloton in cycling) rode by us first, jockeying for position as they sped toward the finish line.

The next day, we watched a rider go on the attack as he tried to use the relaxed pace of the peloton within the feed zone to his advantage. In both cases, I held my breath as the racers passed, trying to recognize riders by their colorful team uniforms and by the prize jerseys--yellow, green and polka-dot--worn by the leaders in the overall time, sprinting and hill-climb categories, respectively.

Because we chose to see the Tour in its first week, when racers typically compete on flat, quick courses, the pack passed by us relatively fast. Traveling to one of the shorter time-trial or hill stages affords a greater chance of seeing riders pass one at a time. But crowds along the routes that we chose were more spread out than they might have been at one of the famed mountain stages.

As soon as the last stragglers--racers who had been caught behind crashes earlier in the day, and a handful of emergency vehicles--passed us by, we crowded into a nearby pub to watch the end of the race. Our first day, Belgian cyclist and hometown hero Marc Wauters won the stage and the yellow leader’s jersey; people poured out into the streets afterward to celebrate his victory.

By the time we returned home, we were hooked on the drama that is the Tour. I found myself doing whatever I could to arrive at the newsstand near my house just in time to buy a day-old version of L’Equipe for race coverage. We trolled the Internet and became connoisseurs of the many French sites that offer start-to-finish coverage of each day’s race.

The PMU hand, one of the many souvenirs that survived the trip home, is now affixed to the wall of our garage. Every time I guide my bike down the driveway, I stop for a moment before beginning my ride. I imagine that I am back on that European road--and that the crowds are cheering for me, waving their Kelly green hands.

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Guidebook: Taking In the Tour

Getting there: The Tour route varies from year to year, but it’s usually best to fly into Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris and then drive the rest of the way from there. From LAX, nonstop service is available to Paris on Air France and Air Tahiti Nui, and direct service is offered on US Airways. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $1,177.

Most major airlines allow you to take a bike, packed in a bicycle box or case, as your second checked piece of luggage at no extra charge.

To accommodate our two bikes and their cases, we needed an oversized car, which can be hard to find in Europe. We went with Auto Europe, (800) 223-5555, www.autoeurope.com, and ended up with a minivan; with the seats folded down in back, our gear fit snugly. A minivan rents for about $680 a week.

Telephones: To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international dialing code).

Where to stay: We stayed at Hotel Le Cedre, 8 Rue de l’Eveche, 60400 Noyon, France; 333-4444-2324, fax 333-4409- 5379, www.hotel-lecedre.com.

It is across from the town’s beautiful cathedral. The room was sparsely decorated, but the employees’ hospitality--and the generous breakfast buffet--more than made up for it. A double room costs $55-$65; breakfast is about $6.

Where to eat: Le Noviomagus, 8 Rue de l’Eveche, Noyon, 333-4493-3399, is next door to Le Cedre and across from the Noyon cathedral. It offers traditional meals. We had chicken with rice and a fruit tart for dessert, about $40 for two.

Along the route, we had a delightful meal at Bistro-Ellen, 72 Hasseltsestraat, Bilzen, Belgium, 32-8941-2301. Skip the more serious-looking restaurant in favor of the outdoor cafe; the soup of the day, served with fresh bread, was wonderful, as was the lasagna Bolognese, served straight out of the oven. Lunch for two ran about $25.

Other resources for watching the Tour: An American-based Web site, www.Velovista.net, provides detailed information for planning your own cycling trip.

If you want to visit the Tour by bicycle but prefer to have someone else organize it, several package tours are available. Some require you to bring your own bike or rent one; others will provide one as part of the package. Most have mechanics and easy transportation of bikes from one site to another. Among the U.S. choices:

Breaking Away, (310) 545-5118, fax (310) 545-6625, www.breakingaway.com, has been organizing cycling vacations for almost 20 years. It takes participants to watch and ride parts of the Tour and finishes in Paris with a grandstand viewing of the final stage. A 12-day trip, for intermediate to advanced riders, runs $3,298 plus air fare.

Backroads, (800) GO-ACTIVE (462-2848), fax (510) 527-1444, www.backroads.com, an “active travel” company, offers a similar nine-day tour, also $3,298 plus air fare. This year the group meets in Avignon on July 20 and travels the Tour route back to Paris.

Golden Adventures, (214) 522-1217, fax (253) 541-7483, www.goldenadventures.com/FRANCE.htm, offers an eight-day tour. For $2,150 plus air fare, guests get the use of hybrid bicycles and a shared laptop computer, with a personalized e-mail address, for sending digital photos home.

The French magazine Velo hosts “L’Etape du Tour” (The Tour Stage), www.letapedutour.com, each year in anticipation of the main event. For about $45, cyclists can compete in an entire stage (this year, Stage 17 on July 22) three days before the Tour racers arrive. All 7,500 places in the “Etape” race, which draws an international following, had been reserved by February of this year.

For more information: To learn more about the Tour de France, visit www.letour.fr.

An English version of the Tour de France program is available for $4.99 plus shipping; (800) 234-8356, www.velogear.com.

The French newspaper L’Equipe, an official partner of the Tour de France, is an excellent resource. Its Web site, www.lequipe.fr, does a great job with Tour coverage; the print version of the newspaper is available at almost any newsstand in France.

French Government Tourist Office, 9454 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 715, Beverly Hills, CA 90212; France-on-Call hotline (410) 286-8310 (for brochures), (310) 271-6665, fax (310) 276-2835, www.franceguide.com.

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Cara Mia DiMassa is a reporter on the Metro staff of The Times.