Fierce Climbs and Fervent Crowds: A Tour of Britain Reflection

A cracking day, following Stage 2 of the Tour of Britain. As dusk descends, I find myself utterly depleted, drained not by the effort of following the race itself, but by the sheer spectacle of enthusiasm displayed by the crowds, who, not unsurprisingly, chose to congregate at the top of the brutal ascent out of Commondale and later thronged Saltburn bank with a fervour that could only be described as near-religious.

Here we have a photograph of the peloton at the base of the Commondale bank, poised to embark on a climb so ferocious, so utterly decisive, that it might well determine the fate of this particular stage—although such a pronouncement sounds like it came from one of those TV commentators whose job it is to keep their audience on tenterhooks. As the illustrious Eddy Merckx once declared, “You know when you are in the peloton and you come near the Ventoux, nobody’s speaking anymore, you can hear a fly, because it’s always very quiet because everybody’s afraid about the Ventoux, because it’s a hard climb.” Ah, the Ventoux, that towering giant of cycling legend. Let us, however, not delude ourselves. These quaint little undulations of the North York Moors, though charming in their way, hardly compare. Still, these short, sharp inclines, occurring with what must be described as irritating regularity, are, I am assured, quite draining—a brutal test that will, as the saying goes, separate the wheat from the chaff.

And so, we arrive at the ‘moment of truth.’ Who, indeed, will emerge triumphant from today’s stage? I’ve no idea but I daresay I’ll discover the answer in due course when I watch the action at the finish in Redcar on Catchup tonight.

A delightful lady inquired, with all the grace of a sledgehammer, what I might pen for this evening’s blog, hinting ever so delicately that she might make a worthy subject. Naturally, as one not well-versed in the art of evasive manoeuvres, I simply reiterated my usual refrain: I avoid writing about people—unless, of course, they are safely out of focus and beyond recognition in the accompanying photograph.