TOUR
DE PRAPIC
'These
are unusual times' has to be the most overused phrase this year
but, yes, these are unusual times and time, itself, has become
distorted. Some days drag on while weeks and months flash by. Annual
events, festivals, sports events and school holidays, our usual
reference points, have either been cancelled or
postponed. Without these markers my biological clock, or rather my
biological calender, has become confused. Frequently during the
various phases of lockdown and semi-lockdown I have woken up with no
idea what day it is and even worse, what time of year it is! One of
the reference points in the Dutch calender, maybe surprisingly, is
the Tour de France. Not because The Netherlands is a land of bicycles
but because, in a country where the summer holiday is almost a
religion, the 'Tour' is closely associated with summer and the
annual pilgramage to the sun. Nostalgic tales of summers past often
involve caravans, campsites, and fathers bent over a portable radio trying to pick up Radio Tour de France. For the Dutch, whether they enjoy cycle racing, hate
it or are totally disinterested, the Tour de France is July , July
is summer and summer means VACATION!
The
postponment of the Tour and other annual sporting events and bike rides I may well have taken part in, along with
the cancellation of our planned trip or trips this year, have seriouly
affected my sense of time and seasons. Mentally and physically I'm
still waiting for the summer to arrive and we're already a week into September. To confuse
my biorythms even further the Tour de France has just started!
However,
as a famous Dutch footballer once said, every disadvantage has it's
advantage.
I will now be able to follow the whole three week race on TV, usually I miss most of it.
Glancing
at the the race itinery I noticed that the route will pass several, for me, memorable places. At this very
moment the riders are heading towards a finish on the Mount Aigoual,
a mountain I have cycled many times, mosty while working as a tour
leader in the Cevenne. Yesterday's stage ended with a climb to the
ski resort Ocières – Merlette. The race turned left in Orcières
but if you continue straight on for a couple of kilometres where the road ends you will have arrived at the village of Prapic. Prapic
has a few houses, a church, a restaurant and a bus stop. Oh yes,
and there is a simple campsite. A gateway to the Parc
National des Ecrins Prapic is a popular starting point for tough
mountain hikes, leisurley walks or picnics. To prevent daytrippers from using, misusing or abusing the toilet facilities campers are
issued with an impressively sized golden key on a red ribbon.
We
were not in the best of spirits when we arrived. That year we had just a ten day holiday. We were used to being away for all or most
of the summer. Our mood, however, soon changed. We had chosen well,
the campsite was made to measure, during what we thought a short
holiday we hiked two mountains and cycled up to the ski resort. I
took my mountain bike by cable car further up the mountain and rode
my one and only downhill. I made friends with a marmotte but the friendship cooled
when the sweet biscuits ran out and there was only dry bread left. The Tour de France passed close by, a bike ride and a hike took us to an ideal spot just before the top of the last climb of the toughest stage that year. Very close to witnessing one of the most memorable incidents in the race's recent history.
Despite,
or maybe partly due to, our low expectations it was a thoroughly enjoyable break, sun, fun and never a dull moment. More memories surfaced when we found the photographs and, for the first time during this Corona period, I realised just how much I miss mountains, the great outdoors and brief encounters with marmottes....
