Posted by Chris Leadbeater, Travel Writer, TravelMail
If every paper you open and every website you click upon today seems to be showing a blur of yellow and images of a slim be-sideburned man grinning in sunglasses, there is good reason for this uniformity of coverage. The victory of Bradley Wiggins in the 2012 Tour de France is a feat of true greatness – the first triumph by a British rider in what must be considered the world's toughest sporting event, all three weeks and 2000 miles of it. You may already be annoyed at the hail tickertape – but, for once, the hype is justified.
However, I do not want to dwell on Wiggins's athletic achievement – partly because the whys and wherefores of how he did it are being discussed in depth elsewhere, and mainly because this is a travel blog. And there is a travel backdrop to this morning's main story – as there is every year, in the month when the Tour brings a sudden presence of whirring spokes to the football-dominated back pages. Because ultimately, whoever pedals into Paris wearing the maillot jaune, the real winner in cycling's grand hurrah is France itself.
The Tour is more than just a race. It is a showcase for what may – and feel free to disagree on this point – well be Europe's most beautiful country. Certainly, France is a place of endless geographical diversity – from the sun-bathed sands of its south shore to the snow-clad peaks of its two major mountain ranges, via a chorus line of cosmopolitan cities that all come armed with epic slabs of history and decadently tempting culinary options.
And the Tour does an able job of showcasing the whole package. I defy anyone to watch some of the astonishing footage that the French broadcasters conjure onto our television screens – the star contenders for the title snaking up a steep Alpine pass, the magnitude of their task underlined by helicopter shots that capture their progress from high above; the peloton powering through fields heavy and golden with corn as horses canter happily alongside – and not feel an urge to grab their passport and immediately leap the Channel.
In this context, the fact that the Tour is a sporting contest, full of tactics and intricacies, is almost a side issue. It is a window, open onto France – even when it is not trying to be.
This year's event has been a case in point. The 2012 Tour has followed a route that might be described as obtuse, avoiding almost the entire western half of the country. This has meant several notable omissions from the itinerary: the rolling breakers of the long Atlantic coast, the noble winelands around Bordeaux, the outstretched arm of Brittany.
But other locations have, by contrast, found themselves in the spotlight. To pick out just a handful, the following have all hosted either the start or conclusion of a Tour de France stage over the past three weeks, and will be expecting an up-surge in tourist interest as a result: Rouen, the oddly under-appreciated Normandy city where the River Seine seems to sparkle as it passes under its bridges, and the strikingly modern Church of Saint Joan of Arc (it was completed in 1979) pays tribute to the tragic figure who was burned at the stake on the same site in 1431; Chartres, the notable outpost 60 miles south-west of Paris whose 12th century cathedral is one of the finest examples of Gothic architecture (and where Wiggins clinched the crown by winning the final time trial on Saturday); Le Cap D'Agde, a seaside resort on the south coast of Languedoc-Roussillon, which, although less known than Cannes or Nice, was the proud finishing point of the Bastille Day stage.
Even Boulogne – which, as anyone who has caught a ferry to Calais's little brother will wryly admit, is probably not France's most elegant dot on the map – managed to summon a sense of poise and purpose as the Tour scooted past its medieval walls in the first week.
You do not need to be in France while the Tour is making its way around the country to be inspired by its magic – although, if chance presents itself, this is not an experience to be spurned. A French town will always be in carnival mode on the day the world's best cyclists barrel through.
And this principle is amplified to maximum decibels if the place in question is the capital. Four years ago, I made the pilgrimage to Paris to watch the final stage that – as per tradition – brings down the curtain on the Champs Elysees. For all the heat and crowd numbers of that July day, there was a genuine wonder to standing next to the crash barriers on the Rue de Rivoli (you have to be out of bed very early to secure yourself a spot on the Champs Elysees), waiting for the riders to roar past. That night, Paris seemed to be a more joyful city than normal, its cafes full, its restaurants busy – the after-effects of the keynote moment of its sporting summer lingering until well after dark.
Next year's Tour will be the 100th edition of this majestic event – and this creates another reason to think of paying it a visit (if the prospect of a British defending champion is not enough already). In the meantime, if the last three weeks have foisted a few must-dos onto your travel wish-list, then – sporting issues aside – the Tour Effect is alive and well.
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