The Tour of Britain is the zenith of domestic road-racing. If it doesn’t come passed your doorstep, then consider hunting it down with a mini bike-touring adventure.
In the slipstream of lead-out man Wout van Aert, I bear down on the finish line 300m away. The roar of the crowd merges with the roar of oxygen in my head as my watts push their limit. The stuff of fantasy, right? Well, yes but also, astonishingly, (most of) it actually happened during a heady two days following the 2023 Tour of Britain circus.
About to jump on WvA's wheel. Picture courtesy of Olly Bowers
Ever on the look-out for the next bike-touring adventure, when two stages of the 2023 Tour were announced for southern England, I immediately booked the time off work and a four-berth caravan in the designated start and depart town of Felixstowe. I’d fill in the ‘who’ and ‘how’ detail later.
By depart day we were four and, though with differing levels of passion for elite road racing and for bike-touring, all of us to a woman were up for a little adventure. Kent is land-locked on three sides and bound by the M25 on the fourth. The 140km ride to Felixstowe would therefore incorporate two ferries – first Gravesend to Tilbury then Harwich to Felixstowe Port. I cycled alone, excited to have a purpose for the journey – the A to B route on new roads making a pleasing change to the usual weekend coffee-stop loops. The rest of the gang caught the train after work and cycled the last 20k from Ipswich.
Over dinner our plan for race-day took shape. We knew from past experience at the Tour de France that the parking lot for the team buses was the pinnacle of pre-race action and that buses would arrive 90 minutes before the start. We knew too that a 90-degree corner close to the finish line would provide a great snapshot of high-octane sprint action at the end of the race.
The team buses was where the action was at. Picture courtesy of Olly Bowers
Race day dawned against the backdrop of a sparkling late-summer vista where Felixstowe showed the very best of herself. The English Channel shone an azure-blue that even the Med would be proud to display; the sea-front cafes buzzed with cyclists and cycle chat; and the pebble beaches were dotted with sunseekers enjoying an end-of-season top-up to their tan.
One of the great joys of sharing a space with the cycling community is how keen everyone is to chat. Over breakfast two guys carrying Hunt wheels stopped to talk after seeing my recent wheel upgrade to my Decathlon Triban. Turns out they were carrying wheels for Olly Wood, riding for Team GB, and supporting him whilst he sought out his next pro contract. They admired my set up. ‘My mate designed your freehub, you know?’ offered one. Impressive! ‘Yeah, and he’s the owner and founder of Hunt’, offered the other. Oh, very, very cool!
Meanwhile, the action at the team bus zone was hotting up. At the Tour de France you see the best in the business but access is limited and elusive lanyards offer the only magic pathway into the cordoned off areas. Not so with racing on our soil. Some of the very best were here for our flagship race and we were all allowed to get involved.
Strolling along the seafront we passed the Never Strays Far trio – Ned Boulting, David Millar, Pete Kennaugh – all iconic contributors to the sport. They were recording a podcast but stopped to say hello and pose for photographs. The Conti Teams arrived in minibuses and riders set up deckchairs on the promenade and readied themselves for the race – strapping on heart-rate monitors, measuring sock length and shooting the breeze with riders from other teams.
The stars of the show appeared – Ineos, Jumbo, Movistar and Bora riders all left their team buses, picked up their bikes and chatted with the crowds milling around – a front row seat was offered to us all.
And that’s where I saw my opportunity.
Van Aert left the Team bus and, together with Eduardo Affini, cycled the half kilometre to the sign on. What other sport do you get the chance to participate alongside the stars? I let them pass and jumped on their wheel and enjoyed imagining I was part of the lead-out train, laughing at the idea of this world class team having a new sprinter. Through the town we cycled as the crowds grew noisier – cheering on their idols and laughing at the spectacle of me daring to ride on their wheel.
At the end of the race we were witness to Van Aert’s solo bid for victory. It was arguably one of the defining moment of the Tour. But of course as a spectator you see a moment in time unable to contextualise what you see against the backdrop of the whole race. We knew we were seeing men in lycra suffering. What we did not know then was that we were privileged to be part of a very special story. Taking a front row spot for the podium presentation half an hour later and watching Wout celebrate, his bottle of champagne showering over us, we were finally in no doubt how important the victory was to him; and in no doubt how special it had been for us to be fully immersed in a very memorable day.
The next day we all cycled 140km home. We planned our route to intercept the race on Stage Six from Southend to Harlow. Whilst waiting for the riders to pass and soaking up the atmosphere from the school children and locals lining the village road in search of their share of the celebration, we reflected on the adventure. One of us was new to pro-cycling. Having watch the Netflix documentary, she had gone on to watch the 2023 Tour de France and was beginning to make sense of the tactics, the teamwork and the human suffering the makes this sport steal our heart. From there she had immersed herself in her first live pro-race. A new fan had truly been born.
Felixstowe was a magnificent host town by day and by night
Everyone we spoke to was local – some had cycled 20 miles to the start line, some had fallen out their front door. None had embraced the Tour of Britain for the adventure it could offer and made a two-day bike-touring epic out of the occasion. That, I think, was a missed trick.