A Police Escort, Kazakhstan Triplets, and 3467k to Paris!

This month we spend 25 consecutive days filming at the Tour de France. Yeah, that’s right. vingt-cinq. NO matter how you cut la moutarde, it’s a whopper! But the life, oh, you must eat so well, discover so many precious antique villages, experience the flavor of the pays… or so one would think. Tour de France is an adventure, without question. There are the charming country towns, yes, as seen from the car at 85k/hour while driving on course ahead of a roaring thunder of giant caravan floats. Or the unforgettable French cuisine, as discovered after 10pm when we leave the salle du presse to find the only restaurant still open. Apparently only the worst chefs in France will keep their kitchen open that late! And the local charisma, oui oui. Last year we were nearly run down by the Gendarmes, practically tossed out of the Tour by the French organizers, and painstakingly blockaded by the spectators on one stage almost missing the finish line action. So what exactly is the reward?

For any media maven worth their salt in cycling, the Tour is it. Period. Ok, maybe the Olympics, but what about the other 3 years?! The Tour is SEE and BE SEEN. It is the great Photo.Moto.TV.Video.Film Shoot-out. And, of sorts, it is a glorious heart-warming reunion. We see old friends, make new ones, share tales from the [battle] field, exchange media war stories, compare gear, and at the end of the day – we pray for great stories, visual stories. And if we are lucky we will go to bed with a sandwich from the AutoGrill, at least 4 hours of sleep ahead of us, and a sweet smile.

And then we go again. A Bientôt…

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