Leaving the campground at a decent time we ignored both of the GPS systems and took the road above us rather than following their directions back through the maze of Valeggio.

After only a short climb we emerged onto a lovely plain and went a bit west/southwest before veering southeast. The road wasn’t too bad, and the traffic wasn’t overly heavy, except it is a holiday so there were a fair number of motorcycles.

We made good time, passing Modena, then Bologna, where we turned south to cross the Apennines. Rather than continue on the motorway we exited onto a smaller highway that was slower, of course, but more scenic. Part way along there was a diversion due to road work, which slowed us down even more, although we weren’t really in a hurry having made such good progress the previous day.

We rejoined the motorway just west of Firenza and arrived home to Papiano just after 5:00. Our trip north was just short of six weeks, and in that time we saw ten days of excellent racing and covered thousands of kilometres. It was a hugely successful and exciting journey but we’re both very glad to be back in Italy.

Since getting back Colin has started doing little fix-ups around the house. I helped him take the shutters down, some of which had to be lowered by rope as they wouldn’t fit through the window frames. He’s sanded and painted one so far – they’re going to look fantastic, especially after the house itself gets a fresh coat of paint. He does have to be careful about the sanding, however, as a couple of them are very weathered and are at risk of falling apart.

One day we took a day-trip, starting with outdoor furniture shopping in Marsciano. I sat on dozens of chairs to test for comfort, and we both agreed on a bright red set that had wide seats – there must be room for a person as well as a dog, after all – with nice comfy cushions. When the fellow showed us the total we both registered our shock, but then he indicated ‘wait’ and hit another button – the set was on sale for half-price as that model has been discontinued and the display set is the last one. He also gave us a present – a back cushion for one of the chairs – he apologized profusely for only having one, not two to give us.

After piling the new furniture into the back of the campervan we continued our day-trip to Trevi, ignoring both of the GPS’s again, so we drove almost straight east and past Montefalco instead of taking the main road up past Perugia.

We went to our favourite restaurant but had to get an inside table as it was pretty chilly out. We shared a plate of bruschetta for an appy – it was such a large portion I wondered if I was going to have room for my main course. There were five different toppings, each as delicious as the others – plain with olive oil, pesto, creamy cheese, tomatoes, and pate.

Luckily I was able to finish my main, with a little help. I got the roast wild boar with baked potato and it was so tender I barely needed a knife to cut it with. As usual I had no room for dessert, although I did manage more than one glass of very nice red wine.

The return trip back home was via Leroy and Merlin near Perugia where Colin got the rest of the supplies needed for the painting.

We watched another movie – the first one a couple of nights ago was ‘V for Vendetta’, the next night was ‘Capricorn One’ and this one was ‘The Usual Suspects’. I hadn’t seen any of them before and was pleasantly surprised each time.

One afternoon as we were heading down the hill to the bar I noticed one of the local cats up in a tree – not clinging to the trunk or climbing up or down, but roosting comfortably right near the top.

We had some rain and the weather had turned quite chilly again – I got my winter coat out but it was actually a bit over-the-top. The shutter painting had to be put off until things dry out a bit.

Chairman Meow next door hadn’t visited in a couple of days and we were a bit worried about him – he usually shows up for food as soon as he knows someone’s up and about. One day we encountered his owner, Angelo, when shopping for groceries – he assured us that Meow is fine – he’s just been ‘out loving it up’.
He does need to be ‘fixed’ – Meow, not Angelo – but he’s scared to try to put him in a box to take him to the vet.

The morning promised much better weather than there was yesterday for the race – the field across from us was totally misty in the rising sun while the sky behind and above us was beautiful blue.

The sheep were all grazing in the field, and further over Mr. Fox was back rooting around near the fence.

We left our excellent little spot fairly early so as not to overstay our welcome in the village parking area. We drove back through Stavelot to get to the motorway south. This time I got a photo of the ‘pinocchio’ statue in the middle of the large roundabout.

We made good progress down and into Germany, with the weather deteriorating along the way. By the time we reached the campground, between Stuttgart and Ulm, it had turned fairly cold and wet.

The campground is smaller than the last few we’ve been at, but has very nice facilities, including heated washrooms and showers. You have to pay for the wi-fi, which is unusual, but it was a very strong, fast signal, which is also somewhat unusual.

I looked up what the story was about Stavelot as I’d also seen a ‘Hansel and Gretel’ cafe in addition to the pinocchio statue. I don’t know about the cafe, as the writers of Hansel and Gretel were the Brothers Grimm who were German, but the pinocchio was actually based on an annual carnaval where some of the men dress up in white with long pointed red noses. They are called the Blancs Moussis, and would hit bystanders with inflated pig’s bladders – glad it wasn’t that time of year! As with all of the towns in the area, Stavelot was heavily involved in the Battle of the Bulge, and sustained a lot of damage.

Had a nice pasta dinner, then fairly early night.

Next morning was grey and drizzly, but the further south we went the lighter and brighter it got.

By the time we passed into Italy via the Brenner Pass the temperature was rising and the sun was coming out.

We had a bit of a frustrating time finding the campground we’d chosen as it involved navigating through very narrow streets in the town of Valeggio Sul Mincio, just southwest of Verona.

The campground is actually across the river Mincio in the very small village of Borghetto. In addition to the river there is also a fair-sized canal, as well as lots of little ones going thru the farmers’ fields for irrigation.

The frustration was worth it in more than one way – the campground is very basic, although quite nice. And Borghetto is really charming, if a bit touristy even at this time of year.

The medieval fortress across the river in Valeggio overlooks everything and there are still quite a few walls/parts of walls and gates still standing.

We setup the campervan and took a walk around. We decided to go for Colin’s birthday dinner a little later at one of the many restaurants on the river.

When we went back to the village we chose a really nice looking little place and sat down – Mo included. We ordered some bruschetta to start with and it was four pieces with different toppings, all of which were just delicious. We shared them, each eating half – salmon, creamy cheese, smoked beef, and pike from Lago Garda – I think the pike was my favourite, but maybe it was the salmon – no the beef! Oh – I couldn’t decide as they were all so good.

For the main course I got the ‘suckling pig with crackling skin’ and it was one of the best pork dishes I’ve ever had. It was a fairly large portion, complete with vegetables and salad, but I managed to clean the plate – with a little help from Colin and Mo.

It was dark by the time we finished and walked back to the campground, but it wasn’t cold. I only had my sweater on for warmth, and remembered that only 3 days ago I was bundled in my winter coat, boots and gloves.

The almost six weeks in Belgium (and Holland) were awesome and we loved them, but both agree it’s good to be back in Italy.

Race day – which happens to be Colin’s birthday – started much the same as yesterday – grey, cold and rainy. Mid-morning we took the short walk up to the top of the climb to see where we might want to be for the race.

At about 11:30 one of the ladies’ team cars pulled in beside us – I asked the young fellow when they would be coming by and he said about an hour. I took that time to walk down the road to where the men’s and ladies’ routes diverge – the men go straight while the ladies take a left.

I was curious what was down the other route so walked about 1 km before turning back – I was pretty wet but not overly cold. I hustled back to the campervan, collected my camera and Colin and I went back to the turning point to wait for the ladies.

There’s not nearly so much fanfare involved – no caravan, no helis and only a few motos, none of which is a tv moto. I took my extra ground cover with me so I could spread it out and keep my backpack covered, and kept my camera and flash dry by wrapping them in my scarf.

This time I did get cold – my feet were soaking wet even with my good water resistant runners and thermal socks. Back at the campervan we had a bite to eat and a nice cup of coffee.

I just had to jump up and throw on my wet socks and runners when suddenly the caravan came by – I hate to miss freebies so ran out with laces undone and not even my sweater on. There weren’t many people around at the time so several of the folks threw things my way. A couple of things landed in the mud, but they can be washed.

There was a small family with a horse that came up to the fence across the road from us – the man called and called for the larger horse in the field to come – we wondered if it was his horse, especially when he went over the fence and down into the field. The horse finally noticed him – or maybe his white horse, and came running up. The two horses whinnied at each other a bit, then the family took their white horse and walked away. The brown horse in the field was quite upset – it ran back and forth along the fence several times before giving up and running back down the hill.

Knowing that the race is usually within an hour of the caravan’s passing we got our bags ready again and headed up the hill. There was a fairly steady stream of people doing the same thing although with the rain and cold it wasn’t that bad.

We picked a great spot and covered up our bags with my ground cover – the rain came and went, and at one point we even thought it was going to clear up completely and be sunny. No such luck – it started pouring again a few minutes later.

We’d been waiting some time when a blue and white van tried to pull in on the side of the road – there really wasn’t proper room for them and we and another fellow were already standing right there. The asshole backed up and almost ran the other guy over – he pounded on the back of the van so they would stop but all they did was pull forward again so they could back up a little further off the road.

We screamed at them because our bags were almost crushed under the back wheels – what an arrogant bunch of jerks. They’re on a VIP – as in Very Ignorant Pr!cks – trip and thought it was just fine to pull in at the last minute and take someone else’s place. We told them what we thought, picked up our bags and moved across the road and down a bit.

On the other side two other people agreed that the van was in the wrong, and they turned out to be british. Colin chatted with them a bit while I moved further on down the road to find another spot.

Trying to keep the camera and flash dry was a bit of a challenge – I wrapped them in the scarf again but my hands were starting to get very cold. The race finally arrived just before 3:00. I got a couple of not bad shots but an abundance of blurred ones. I think that the cold made the focussing and shutter react more slowly.

As soon as most of the riders had passed we gathered our things together – I gave the blue and white van the finger as they pulled out, just in case they hadn’t understood my earlier shouted comments.

We scurried back to the campervan, dried off our cameras and flashes, and spread everything else out to dry. Luckily we have a good satellite signal so were able to watch the rest of the race on tv.

When I loaded my photos onto my ipad I picked out one of the better ones and showed it to Colin, who had to laugh – the team sponsor was the same company whose van it was that almost ran us over and stole our spot – ha ha! Well, it’s not the riders fault, and the van was not his ‘team support’ vehicle.

For the 16 days of racing we’ve seen so far this year today was the only day with such horrible weather – we’ve been very fortunate.

The sheep in the field below us were very funny – a lady walked across the pasture and a few followed her. She reached up to a lilac bush at the fence-line on the left, grabbed a few bunches and waved them at the sheep – they all came running and she led them into a different field. Who needs sheepdogs when you have lilac? The horses apparently don’t care as much for lilac as the sheep do – they ignored the lady and the running sheep and just kept grazing.

Once my shoes were dry I went for another little walk and saw another beautiful horse, some cute little calves and a couple of beautiful guard dogs.

A little more walking and I was near the big church – I found it kind of funny to have a children’s playground right next to the graveyard.

Back towards the campervan there’s a large map of the local hiking trails – lots of hikers come here. There’s more than one B&B in this little town and lots of trails connecting all of the nearby villages.

There’s also a helpful poster of the digestive system of a cow, just in case any of the hikers was wondering where the grass goes. Shortly after I returned from my walk Colin saw something moving in the field – I jumped out with my camera to have a look and it was a fox – a very large and scruffy one by the looks of it.

We left the campground around 10:30 to find a place to watch tomorrow’s race from – it poured rain almost the whole way. The first half of the race is pretty ordinary – going from Liege down to Bastogne with only one climb. The return trip to Liege is much more interesting – there are 10 categorized climbs and we headed to an area that has 3 of them within about 20 miles.

As soon as we reached to town of Vielsalm we started to see the race arrows so we just followed them. The second climb seemed promising as there was a small town just past the crest and there was even a paved parking area within easy walking distance. Since we were so close to the third climb we kept going so we could have a look at the stele to Eddy Merckx that is at the top – he won this race a record 5 times.

We had started to pass sportif riders now and then along the way, and the road was getting thick with them by the time we reached the town of Stavelot, which is the start of the climb. We started up the hill but turned back after only a short way – the road is extremely narrow and the sportif riders were in the way.

We drove back down and through the town, stopped for gas, then pulled over in front of another memorial. This one is to the miners, by which they mean the brave men who went and found and defused the land mines that the Germans planted everywhere as they retreated.

We pondered continuing to follow the race route to the next climb, but decided instead to go up to the Merckx stele on the road the race will come on. Still dodging sportif riders that were coming down we made it up after only one wrong turn. The view from the top is spectacular – you can see the town of Stavelot down below.

The stele is really neat and I’m very glad we made the effort to get to it. We actually parked on the side of the road and thought we might stay there for the race.

As we ate lunch we saw that more and more sportif riders were arriving – and we spent the next couple of hours marvelling at how stupid some of them were.

Many of them were stopping, of course, to see the stele, and they were just standing in the middle of the road even as cars were trying to pass by – the roads aren’t closed during sportifs, and there was no course marshall there or anything. Other riders that didn’t stop turned the sharp corner to the road down without even looking for oncoming traffic – I was sure one of them was going to get run over. And one stupid guy actually leaned his bike against Eddy’s on the stele, thinking maybe it would make an interesting selfie or something – Colin told him have some respect and move it.

Then there were the stupid drivers that were waiting for someone that was riding up – they could all use some parking lessons. One ignorant asshole actually parked right in the middle of the road – when I opened the campervan door and shouted at him to move he argued with me ‘cars can still get by’ and refused to move. Colin eventually had to go over to his window and explain that it was an open public road and he must move. I thought for a minute that Colin might get hit in the face but the jerk just wound up his window – he did end up moving, but was still half on the road.

The local people must just hate events like this, although we were surprised by their restraint in not honking and cursing as much as I would have. The stupidness of so many riders made me embarrassed and I decided I might have to email the organizers of the event to express my overall displeasure. I’ve seen many sportifs now and have several times been annoyed by the clogged roads, but never this disgusted.

I also wasn’t impressed with the garbage – many riders tried to hit the garbage can that was right there, but others didn’t bother. I went out with a large black bag and picked up a bunch of discarded gel wrappers, etc and put the bag next to the can.

And finally, what impressed me the least, was all the pissing that was going on. Riders stopping on the side of the road – at least they weren’t in the middle, small blessing I guess – pulling out their ‘equipment’ and letting loose a stream. It’s not just dogs that do that!

We decided we didn’t want to stay in that spot after all so once the throngs of sportif riders had thinned out a bit we went back down to Stavelot and re-traced the route back to the town of Wanne that is just past the one climb.

We tried out a couple of different places on the side of the road but weren’t satisfied. During this time we kept seeing vintage sports cars whizzing by – a nearby photographer confirmed that there was a rally happening. It seemed to mostly be beautiful old Porches, but there were also other makes.

We ended up back at the parking area at the end of the village. The rain had come and gone a few times, even hailing for a bit. Then, of course, the rainbow came.

We walked over to a lovely restaurant thinking to have a nice meal to celebrate Colin’s birthday which is tomorrow, but they were fully booked.

Across the road was a nice park area that has a small memorial to the 517th Parachute Regimental Combat Team USA, and there’s also a museum that’s open twice a week.

We’re right across the road from a lovely field full of sheep and a couple of horses – not a bad spot at all.

Another blustery morning with grey skies – we drove down to Bastogne so Colin could visit the war museum. Much of the drive down is on the route for Sunday’s race – they go just into the city before circling around and going back north to Liege on a different road.

As you near the city there’s more than one war memorial, and several old rusted tanks, etc. There’s also a really neat array of sculptured cyclists in one of the large roundabouts paying tribute to the race – it’s the oldest one on the calendar going back to 1892.

The war museum was actually on the race route just at the northeast end of the town. We parked and had lunch, then Colin went on into the museum – I didn’t think I could handle it so took Mo for an outside tour of the memorial to the Americans.

On the way to the memorial, just outside the entrance to the museum, was an art display. It was made of paintings that were all done on pieces of the actual Berlin Wall – it was very moving, and seemed to be a very apt place to have it.

As you approach the memorial there’s a large sculpture of the photo of the sailor kissing the nurse.

The memorial was very beautiful and emotional – I might as well have gone into the museum as I had tears streaming down my face almost the whole time (although almost hidden by my movie star sunglasses).

It’s built in the shape of a five pointed star and on the outside panels are the names of the various American regiments, etc, who participated in this area, and on the inside of each pillar is the story of what happened.

Along the top on the outside are the names of all of the states, although they seemed to have a bit of a problem with the order of a couple of them.

One kind of amusing part was getting up to the top viewing area – there was a set of circular stairs that were very narrow and I was just about as freaked out by them as poor little Mo was. I almost had to stop and pick her up but wondered who would pick me up – luckily we reached the top unscathed.

There wasn’t really much to see from up there, except that at the end of each point of the star there was a placque with a map of the countryside in front and what had happened there.

The trip down the spiral stairs was easier than the trip up for both Mo and myself. We then walked just a little ways down to ‘the Crypt’ that Mo didn’t like at all. She was fine going down the stairs but didn’t like the inside – she pulled furiously at the lead and started barking as soon as we went inside so we didn’t stay long.

We walked back up and took another look at the art exhibit, then headed back to the campervan to wait for Colin to finish his museum tour.

I encouraged him to take a look at the memorial and crypt, so we all went back down to the outdoor cafe so Mo and I could wait while he had a look around. The chairs were all chained to the tables, but there was a couple at the end that called out to us – their chairs were unchained and they asked if we wanted to join them.

They were Dutch and had just come down for a long weekend – the fact that the race was going to go by was a bonus for them, as they also knew a lot about the races. They spoke english very well – as most dutch people do – and were nice to talk with for awhile.

While Mo and I sat and nursed a glass of wine – ok it was me, not Mo – Colin had a walk around up and down the memorial and to the crypt.

On the way back to the campground we stopped in La Roche-de-Ardenne so I could have a closer look at the ‘sculpture park’ we’d seen next to the river. Once again the theme had something to do with the war, but none of the placques were in english.

Mo and I walked all around and did enjoy the sculptures, and although they were a bit on the obscure side the place was very peaceful and beautiful.

We’d arrived last evening to a campground just outside the town of La Roche-en-Ardenne after the office had closed but a fellow had let us through the gate and told us to register in the morning.

The campground is right on a very pretty river that has a large berm – meant to keep floods at bay – and it’s a nice walk along the top, with the odd bench here and there. The weather changed completely more than once throughout the morning – clouds, sun, rain – but always windy.

Later in the afternoon we drove into the town – it’s very pretty, but I guess was almost completely rebuilt after WWII.

There is more than one US tank on display, and a fairly large war museum, as well as the usual memorial.

This area was heavily bombed by the Americans in the war to force the Germans to flee, and the town was a very important river crossing location during the Battle of the Bulge.

Many of the roads in the city centre are pedestrian friendly so walking around was quite relaxing – there are sculptures and artwork all over the place.

We stopped at a nice cafe/bar near one of the squares for a drink and waiting for the rain to diminish a bit.

As we passed the war museum the fellow was just about to take in the outside sign but waited a moment so I could take a photo of it. The town before the war in the top left corner and then the after – not much was left.

But they did a great job rebuilding, and the place seems prosperous and busy enough even on a rainy day in April.

Quite a few more campervans had arrived last night, and more joined throughout the morning. The day was sunny but with very gusty winds.

We put up our flags and went for a nice walk. The cafe across from the park was actually open so we went in for a coffee.

I’ve never been served coffee this way before – we each had our own mini ‘percolator’ on top of our cups and had to wait for it to drip/filter through. It was very good, although quite strong. The cafe itself is more like a sports bar – it has a huge tv at one end and they’re advertising that they’ll have the race on later.

There are some very interesting decorations on the wall – one is a woodblock print of an Italian cathedral, and another is for ‘Waterloo – the Beer of Victory’ which made us howl with laughter. I guess Belgium was not on Napoleon’s side.

Back at the campervan I had just noticed that the Lion of Flanders flag was twisted and caught on something and wasn’t going to blow back out – as we were contemplating whether we should bring it down and untangle it the pole actually snapped from the wind! So we had to take it down and just removed the end section, re-attached the flags and put it back up – problem solved.

We had a bit of lunch before the arrival of the ladies’ race the first time around right at 1:00. We could see the motos and other vehicles well before they crested the hill below us – you can see right across the valley to the road they come down before turning and climbing the small hill into the town.

They made a second pass about 50 minutes later – this time I walked down further so I could see them ride up the hill, but decided not to do that again. The sidewalks are pretty narrow and I wasn’t really getting a better view. The caravan for the men’s race followed about 5 minutes later, throwing the usual stuff out as they whizzed by.

We got quite a few things, including wrist sweat bands in Belgian colours, and a nice light blue microfibre cloth. The little dog got nothing.

The men’s breakaway arrived for the first time at about 2:45, followed shortly by the peloton.

They actually passed us three times, not only two, and each time the caravan zipped by again – more loot. As usual Valverde didn’t look like he’d shaved in a couple of days – personally I like the look.

And as usual Adam Yates was riding with his jersey undone – that look I’m not so keen on.

As soon as the peloton had passed we dashed into the cafe/bar to watch the end of the race on the big screen. The place was absolutely packed – I managed to squish in on the end of a bench and Colin had to kneel on the floor (because some motorcycle riders had taken a chair to put their helmets on).

The finish was excellent – this time Alaphillipe and Fuglsang didn’t dick around so much and Alaphillipe won in a thrilling sprint to the finish. The crowd was very happy and so were we.

After the race ended the bar cleared out and we went back and took down our flags in preparation for leaving our excellent spot. We drove south towards our next destination, passing through a bit of Luxembourg on the way.

We left our nice roadside parking space fairly early and picked a campground southwest back in Belgium.

We drove for a bit along the huge Canal Albert, which is about 80 miles long and connects the city of Antwerp on the north coast with the city of Liege.

Reaching the village of Oteppe we found that the campground was huge, with hundreds of cabins and very few campervans. There are many things catering to kids, including a swimming pool with water slides, sports courts and a large area with playground equipment.

Luckily our spot was well away from the noise of screaming children, although also far from the washrooms and showers. As soon as we were settled I headed up for a shower and could barely finish – it was scalding hot with no control other than on or off. I considered leaving the shampoo in my hair rather than being boiled alive, but instead kind of splashed water from my hands and hoped I ended up rinsed enough. I always thought very cold showers were awful, but at least they weren’t dangerous.

We went for a walk through the forest next to the campground but were unable to find the ‘fish pounds’ that were shown on the map we’d been given. We did find yet another large playground area but skirted it in favour of returning to the campervan.

The campground does have wi-fi but the signal was crappy so I couldn’t load any photos or post anything, although I was able to email home.

We didn’t stick around long the next morning but made the short drive to Huy for groceries, then followed tomorrow’s race route backwards to choose our watching spot. There is a 29 km loop at the end of the race that they’ll cover twice and it has three difficult climbs.

We followed the loop part way around but turned back to the town of Marchin as we’d seen a perfect place and the town is at the top of a small hill. There’s a large church in front of a nice grassy area that has a war memorial, a gazebo, and lots of parking. There were already 3 campervans there so we were pretty sure it would be ok.

After a nice lunch outside with the table and chairs set up on the grass we went for a walk to see if there was a cafe or something in the town – couldn’t find anything open so returned. The town itself is, as usual in Belgium, very neat and tidy – the houses and yards are all well kept and the few businesses seem prosperous and not all derelict or abandoned.

You can catch a glimpse of the valley below between the houses and other buildings – they must have fantastic views from their back yards.

Another bright sunny race day – Amstel Gold is the largest race in the Netherlands and attracts some very big names every year. We were woken to the sounds of the barriers and banners being erected all along the hill we’re parked on.

The crew was very organized and efficient – they let a couple more cars in where we were, then that was it – once the banners were attached there were only a few places you could get in or out on the whole hill.

The two horses came very close at one point and I fed them some carrots, which they really seemed to enjoy – the belgian has her mane braided.

We walked down the hill to a nice looking hotel/restaurant just after 11:00 – I went in to order two cappuccinos at the bar and was told ‘she was making them’ around the corner. I waited a minute or two and a lady came towards me holding two cups – I went to take them from her and she said ‘oh no – these are mine! I like coffee too’. We both got a great laugh out of that.

We didn’t linger after finishing our cap’s as the first pass of the men was due sometime around noon. There were quite a few people along the way, although the most crowded we could see was up at the top of the climb a bit above us.

The men’s breakaway arrived right on schedule at 12:05, about seven minutes ahead of the peloton.

They call this area of the Netherlands the ‘dutch mountains’ – I personally wouldn’t call them mountains, but neither would I want to ride a bicycle up the hills – some of them are very steep and they climb a few of them three times, all in the last half of the 266 km route.

As an extra bonus today we got to see the ladies’ got through three times as well – just after 1 and again a half hour later and then another half hour later.

The men re-appeared around 3:14, still with a breakaway of about 10 riders, but down to a 4 minute lead.

On the third and final pass by us there was now only two different men in the breakaway – and Alaphillipe was one of them.

After they had all passed – including the ‘broom wagon’ we rushed inside to watch the end on tv – we were only about 15 km from the finish so it didn’t take long.

Alaphillipe and Fulgsang either ran out of gas or played a little too much catty-mousey because young van der Poel came out of nowhere and blazed by everyone to win. He’s got to be one of my new favourites and we should be seeing and hearing a lot about him in the future.

The folks parked three cars down from us had brought a large tv and set it up in their hatch, complete with satellite and generator – a crowd had gathered around to watch the finale and were all cheering like mad, being that he’s dutch and all.

The barrier removal crew arrived very shortly after the last racer passed and they were even more efficient that the setup crew was – mostly young women, but with a few guys – and did they ever do a good job. There was even a couple of them making sure all the zip ties were bagged up and not left as garbage on the road.

We heard music from one of the restaurant/bars down the hill so decided to join the fun and maybe have a meal out.

There was a really good crowd and they were all have a great time, but then at 7:30 the music stopped and the place started shutting down – talk about not taking advantage of an opportunity to make a buck.

We got a fairly early start after filling up with water and settling the tab. The sportif riders were already clogging the roads – the route goes right past the campground. There’s a large area right across the road that’s a pit stop for the sportif riders and was it ever crowded, even at just after 9 in the morning.

We managed to avoid most of the congestion on our way to the town of Meerssen to get groceries, but that was another adventure. The Lidl store was right in the middle of the town and the parking lot was completely full, including a very large delivery truck almost blocking access. Just as we were about to try to turn around and flee a car pulled out of what turned out to be a perfect spot for the campervan.

Back on the road we had a destination in mind – one of two nearby climbs that tomorrow’s race will pass three times each. We were thwarted more than once by closed roads but eventually found what we hope is the ideal spot. We are right at the signs that indicate the end of the town of Geulhem and the beginning of Berg. It’s definitely one of the climbs on the route as the sportif riders are everywhere and also there are race arrows.

It’s a proper parking area on the side of the road and we’re facing sideways taking up two spots – as long as no one comes and tells us to move it is perfect. We went for a walk up into the town and had a drink at a bar. There were a couple of dutch cyclists at the next table and we had a really nice chat with them. It was funny when a fairly young rider arrived wearing a ‘world champion’ jersey – our new friends agreed with us that only children are ok to wear it – adult sizes shouldn’t even be sold and no adult should ever wear one unless they’ve actually earned it. Very few have.

As we walked back down to the campervan we heard a car screech to a stop and a cyclist cursing loudly. The driver got out of the car and there was a terrible sounding verbal altercation. People ran out of their houses and I went back up the road to see what was going on. The car driver was incensed and his female passenger got out to try to calm him down. I myself get somewhat annoyed sometimes about some of the cyclist in a sportif, but really – there are around 19,000 of them going through this town today so perhaps local drivers should have just a little more patience and take a little more time. A car against a guy on a bike just isn’t a fair competition.

We’re parked right next to a couple of lush fields that have two beautiful horses – one is all black and the other is a belgian that’s black and white with the feathered feet.