Every July, like clockwork, France transforms. Roads are re-surfaced, village squares are swept, bunting is hung, and roadsides fill with picnickers and painted slogans. For three glorious weeks, the country is gripped by a kind of collective madness: the Tour de France has arrived. Even if you don’t know your peloton from your polka dots, it’s hard not to be swept up in this rolling love letter to France.
A race like no other
First held in 1903 to boost sales of the newspaper L’Auto, the cyclists in the Tour de France cover around 3,500 kilometres, over 21 punishing stages. This year it begins on July 7th and during the tour, riders will tackle soaring mountain climbs, cobbled farm roads, dizzying descents and even the odd dash through city streets at 70km per hour. It is one of the toughest sporting events in the world.
And yet, it remains gloriously French. Where else would you find a race that pauses for lunch? (No longer but, in the early days, riders stopped to eat steak and wine mid-stage.) Where else would a podium ceremony involve flowers, champagne and kisses on both cheeks?
Some Tour facts
• The average Tour de France rider burns around 6,000 calories a day—more than double what most people eat.
• Over 12 million spectators line the roads each year, making it the biggest annual sporting event in the world.
• The highest point in the race is the Col de l’Iseran in the Alps at a lung-bursting 2,770 metres.
• The youngest winner was Henri Cornet, aged just 19, back in 1904.
• The most decorated rider is Eddy Merckx, who won five Tours
For most people it is not just about the cycling
For many, the real magic lies in what the Tour reveals: winding châteaux-dotted valleys, lavender-streaked hills, windswept coastlines and tucked-away mountain hamlets you might otherwise never discover. It’s a moving travel brochure, filmed and narrated with Gallic flair.
Each stage is a mini love letter to a region, complete with swooping helicopter shots of vineyards, abbeys, Roman bridges and hilltop villages with red-tiled roofs. You could plan a lifetime of holidays based on the route alone and, in fact, many of my clients have bought a home in this region having seen television footage of the rolling foothills and pretty valleys backed by the snow-capped Pyrenees as the Tour passed through. It is estimated that the Tour is watched by 3.5 billion people worldwide during the three weeks.
Here in southwest France, the arrival of the Tour is more than an event, it is a holiday. Roads close, gendarmes appear, and neighbours gather outside houses and along every road with flasks of coffee and folding chairs at dawn. The caravane publicitaire (a wild procession of floats, freebies and fancy dress) passes first, tossing sweets, hats and inflatable sausages to the crowd. It is chaotic, joyful and completely bonkers. Then comes the silence, the hush before the rush. A whisper of helicopters. A ripple through the crowd. And then, suddenly, they’re here: a flash of colour, a whir of wheels, a blur of muscle and machine, cheering and shouts of encouragement. And just like that, they’re gone.
Vive le Tour
You don’t have to know the names of the riders or the rules of the race to enjoy the Tour de France. You just have to show up. Stand by the roadside with a hat, a smile, and maybe a croissant or two and let yourself be swept up in the atmosphere. And if you find yourself thinking, “maybe I should get a bike,” you’re not alone.
If the idea of living somewhere where the Tour rolls past your garden gate, where neighbours still gather on the roadside with folding chairs and thermos flasks in sun-dappled, pretty countryside, and where life moves at a more gentle pace most of the year, all sounds like your kind of dream, please get in touch:
nadia@foothillsoffrance.com
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