Stage 5 Time Trial
Solvang, CA
Thursday Feb. 21, 2008
I took off from the house at 8pm. It was already dark and thankfully the rain held out until I finished driving on the two lane highway. The goal was to get to Solvang before midnight. I was sure that I wouldn’t get tired because I was so excited to be off on this adventure. I had missed the two previous Amgen Tours of California. The inaugural tour passed right by my Dad’s house in Redondo Beach. I was sick that time around and didn’t feel like going. I missed the second year as well because of a scheduling issue (damn it!). I was determined not to miss this one. Come hell or high water (or PMS) I was going to be there.
I drove straight through the high desert, over to hwy 101, and up along the coast. I went through quite a range of emotions during my drive. From excitement, to loneliness, to missing home, to renewed excitement, to sadness; remembering how I used to ride 100 miles every year in Solvang, and what good shape I used to be in. I hoped that this trip would help inspire some positive changes in my life.
As planned, I made it to Flying Flags RV Resort in Buellton by midnight. I was surprised to find that the tent campground was only occupied by two other campers. I expected to find the place completely packed as it usually is during the annual Solvang Century. Everyone else must have done the smart thing and stayed in a hotel. Oh well, it wasn’t raining and it was a lot warmer than I expected (kind of muggy really). I hoped the next day would be much like this, rather than freezing and wet.
The campground had WiFi internet access so I thought I'd give it a try. Pretty cool, as long as you have enough battery power. After organizing the car a bit, and checking the latest stats from Thursday’s stage, I fell off to sleep dreaming about the day to come. I set the alarm for 7:30am, but woke up at 6am, fell back to sleep, woke up again at 6:30am, and so on, until it was time to get up. I then chugged a breakfast drink, brushed my teeth and set out for a day of first class spectating.
The parking info given out by the awesome ATOC phone tip line was perfect. I parked just behind the bakery on Alisal Road, one block from the starting line. After parking I took a walk around town to scope out the best place to call home for the day. I settled on a spot about 200 feet from the start ramp, along a section of fence that jogged out to allow the official team cars and motorcycles to park. This gave me an open view of the start ramp. Cool.
With this done I went back to my car and got to work on making a “Let Levi Ride” banner. I brought all of the art supplies I needed; Red, black and blue permanent markers, scissors, and an old piece of grey denim fabric that served as the backdrop. The rain started up at about this time so I organized my pack with all of the things I would need for a variety of weather conditions. Soon the time came to head over to my “spot” on the rail. My premier spot got snatched up while I was gone, bummer! But, I found that on this day nothing could piss me off. So I shifted to the left a bit and started decorating.
Lesson #1: Make your banner while you are holding your “spot”.
First I tied my American flag to the front of the fence. Then I draped my “Levi” banner over the top of the railing. The whole thing looked so patriotic. The banner was red, white and blue and had the California bear and stars all over it. I don’t recall seeing anyone else do this. They’ll learn. I was all set, now all I had to do was wait.
To pass time I tried to visualize the logistics of how I was going to get my favorite cyclists to sign the photographs I printed out at home. It was raining off and on and those ink jet photos were going to run. Crap. Good thing I brought my drawing pad and sharpies. I can always just have them sign the book. Ok, that’s solved. Hmm should I keep the book at hand at all times just in case? Should I go with the flow? Should I stay calm? Geez!
To start off the day the race organizers gave amateur riders a chance to race the time trail during the hour before the official race started. Twenty riders paid $1500 each to participate and a few of them did quite well. The best time for the 15 mile course was close to 37 minutes. Seven minutes slower than the best time later in the day.
I started chatting with the folks next to me and we developed a good report. We all watched one another’s places when we had to run to the biffy. Everyone with a free commemorative bell rattled it feverishly to show their support for the amateurs. Riders began to slip through the crowd that swelled behind me as the commentator revved us all up. Every now and then I stood tall and looked around me. The atmosphere in Solvang was electric. I felt like I was in Europe. All of the buildings that lined the street are Danish in appearance and look very authentic. The only thing that brought my mind back to the good ol’ USA was the sight of huge gas-guzzling SUV’s parked all over the place (as opposed to those goofy little European cars that get 80 mpg!)
The riders made their way through the crowd to the start house one by one and took off with all of their might in one minute intervals. The last-placed rider started first, leaving everyone hanging until the last minute to know if our favorite, Levi Leipheimer, would win the days stage. I am so glad that I chose to go to the Time Trial. It was a great opportunity to see each rider one at a time; rather than seeing the whole peloton whiz by at 35 mph. Zzzzippp, over. You really get a good chance to see the shape these guys are in when they are standing still. Two to four percent body fat I’d guess.
It took a few shots to figure out that Don’s digital camera is very slow to respond. The first three shots I took had no cyclist in the frame; just a bunch of people behind the far barrier looking to their left. Oh well, those first few riders weren’t that important anyway, right? I finally got some good shots and made sure to yell as loud as I could for each rider as he set off.
Lesson #2: If you hold the button down half way, the camera will focus. Then, when you take the picture it will happen instantaneously.
The race organizers programmed music to play every time a guy took off. They managed to pick songs that fit each rider. We cheered especially hard for the guy who had to take off with My Shirona playing. I have no idea why they chose that song for him.
Note: ok I just looked up the lyrics and I see what they were getting at, but that’s stretchin’ it!
We all yelled especially loud for Thomas Voekler. Voekler is a baby-faced French rider who wore the yellow jersey for a couple of days during the Tour de France a few years back. This was during the Lance Armstrong days. He broke away from the peloton early one day and won the stage after riding alone for nearly 100 miles. He had over 20 minutes on everyone else. Needless to say no one was really worried. When this guy rides he looks like a 13 year old kid about to die: sort of like Corey Haim trying to play football in the movie Lucas. He tilts his head back like he’s reeaalllly tired, or as if his helmet is too big and he’s trying to keep it from falling down over his eyes. He fought and fought for days to hold onto the lead. But, as the Alps loomed in the distance he lost more and more time to the peloton. His frantic struggle on the first mountain stage will always be remembered by Tour fans. Haaa, everyone loves him. What a blast.
Here’s Thomas:
At one point I turn around to find German rider Jens Voigt right in my face. He proceeded to look me straight in the eye, and in a German accent ask me, “How the Fuck do I get over there?” He then politely asked me to get out of the way so he could jump over the 4 ½ foot railing with his bike in order to get to the start gate in time. “Wait!” I said, “we can move the barrier over for you.” Pleasantly surprised that we would do such a thing, he thanked us and rushed off to the start ramp. As we all reminisced about his use of the “F” word we noticed that he was going to take off in 30 seconds! We now realized why he was so frantic; if he hadn’t made it to the start house in time he would have been disqualified from not only today’s stage, but from the rest of the tour! Oh Jens, early bird gets the worm ya know.
Lesson #3: Pat your favorite cyclist on the ass when they are that close. Cuz when in the hell will you ever get an opportunity like that again?
An hour and a half had passed and finally we started to see the top riders trying to pick their way through the crowd behind us. I can report that most of them were much calmer than Jen Voigt. Cancellara, Hincapie and Leipheimer passed by. They all made it in time. The top riders are so fast that they leave the start gate at two minute intervals. This is supposed to help prevent them from passing each other on the route. This doesn’t always work. Levi Leipheimer earned the spot of team leader on the Discovery Channel team after Lance Armstrong retired. I have been watching him for years and always hoped that he would be able to make a place for himself as a team leader. He won the Tour of California last year and finished 2nd in the 2007 Tour de France. He took his spot in the start house today in the yellow jersey as the tour leader.
As soon as Levi took off (to thunderous cheers) everyone headed over to the finish line, located one block over. It took Levi approximately 30 minutes to finish the course, so I had plenty of time to scope out the place. I found a spot located beyond the finish line, at the end of the run out. I couldn’t see too far down the road due to all of the spectators in front of me leaning out to get a view. One after another, the final riders filter across the finish line and rode past us to their awaiting crews. Levi’s teammate Chris Horner climbed off of his bike right in front of me and sat down on the ground in exhaustion. This would have been an extremely awesome opportunity for a picture if it were not for the huge team crew member standing smack dab in front of me. I managed to get a few shots when the guy bent over. What luck.
Finally the time came, the precious minutes had passed and Levi made the final turn before the finish. The commentator was right, Levi had surpassed everyone’s time by close to one minute! Unbelievable! He climbed out of the seat and “pounded pedals” to the finish line. He had done it. Levi won the Time Trial for the second year in a row! Incredible!
After a few minutes I wandered down to the stage area and stopped for a minute to get a few pictures of Bob Roll (my favorite gap-toothed American cycling commentator). Luck was on my side and Levi rode up right in front of me to be interviewed by Bob. I got some good shots and happened to get in the background of the interview as seen on TV. My 2.5 minutes of fame. I should have stayed where I was because it was right in front of the podium stage. Stupid me I moved. By the time I figure out what was going on I was behind 20 rows of people. I had to hold my camera up above everyone to get any shots. Oh well, it was just amazing to be there.
Lesson #4: When a TV camera is on you, don’t act like a total dork in the background.
After the ceremony, the streets emptied quickly. Earlier, I overheard someone say that the team buses were parked down the road a piece. I figured it couldn’t hurt to go take a look. Good thing I did. A small group of people were hanging outside of the Anti-Doping Tent (this is where the stage winner and a random selection of riders have to go after each stage to give a urine and blood sample). Levi finally came out and was immediately mobbed by everyone. I just stood back and watched. He signed autographs constantly as he walked across the parking lot to the press room. He looked a little peeved, or worn out, I’m not sure.
The crowd thinned right away, and after 10 minutes there were only two of us dumb enough to stand in the parking lot in the drizzling rain. I am a believer in “good things come to those who wait”, so I stood fast and made conversation with a nice fellow from the local bike shop. We both wanted to get an autograph.
Viatcheslav Ekimov sat in the driver’s seat of the Astana team car, ready to take Levi to the hotel. I don't think anyone else knew who he was. I waited until “Eki” finished gnashing on a bagel then snuck up to the driver’s side window from behind. I think I scared the crap out of him. Despite this, he was very cordial and he signed my autograph book. After about 30 minutes Levi exited the press room and looked totally whipped. He nicely autographed one of my photos and my new friend’s messenger bag. As his car drove off we were the only two fools left in the parking lot.
Lesson #5: Take an umbrella. Or better yet, get an umbrella hat so you can have your hands free, and look stylish.
Dayam, that was quite a day! I headed back to my car and got cleaned up in the little bathroom in the parking lot. I planned on eating in town before heading back to the campground in Buellton. I dreaded the thought of trying to kill 5-6 hours in the back of my car until bed time. I did the Solvang stroll and walked up and down every street in town, stopping at each restaurant to read the menu and to see if anyone important was inside. Funny thing is I ran into Eki like 3 times, he must have thought I was stalking him. Haaaaa! Most of the cycling teams were staying at the Royal Scandinavian Inn, and most likely were dining there.
After about an hour I made my way down to the park and entered a small building that had a Chinese place to the left and a pub to the right. I opted for the pub, and to my surprise, sitting at one of the tables, was Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin (the voices of international cycling). Yee ha! For the most part I let them eat in peace, but when Paul got up to get one last complimentary egg roll I jumped into action. Autograph book and pen in hand I said “hello”. I was worried that they wouldn’t want to be bothered or that they would feel put upon if I approached them. I had no need to worry. They were two of the nicest, most cordial people I have ever met. Seriously. Paul and Phil both took the time to talk to me and asked what I thought of the race. Phil called me “Bonnie Jean”. They are wonderful ambassadors of the sport. No one else in the place knew who they were. They must have all been locals, and not cycling fans. I felt like I had them all to myself. What a fitting ending to a fantastic day!
Lesson #6: Never be afraid to say hello to Phil and Paul. Better yet, buy ‘em a drink.
