Cycling in France

You will have read that Bradley Wiggins, winner of the 2012 Tour de France, and Olympic gold medal, was knocked off his bike and injured earlier this month (November 2012), while training. Of course, there is always the risk of a crash while on the road, and I cannot comment on the details of the incident. But what horrified me, and many others, is the level of absolute hatred directed at cyclists in some of the UK Twitter and other social communications. This was so awful that the Guardian ran a piece on it. Some of the comments that this article attracted continued this irrational and disgusting hatred.

What is wrong with so many British people?

Cycling in France has always been a respected and shared activity. Not just the professional sport, but ordinary people of all ages are enthusiastic and active cyclists. I have never encountered anyone disliking cyclists for cycling. All motorists in my experience slow down for bikes, give them time and space, and are aware of the risks to them.

It is clear that cycling is very important in France, and seen as such. There are over 2,500 cycling clubs, most of which have their own club uniforms, and local sponsors. Over 2.3 million bikes were sold last year. There are about 500 organised cycle races every year. There are about 60 velodromes. There are even 73,000 trips every day by Velib, the original in Paris of the BorisBikes in London. Driving around you will see bike riders every day, not just the smaller number using bikes as transport, but people in club colours, in ones, twos and groups, riding a hundred kilometres or more, for fun or for training for competitions.

2011 Tour de France racing through Brecey

In 2011, the Tour de France passed through Brécey, near where we live. People started forming crowds three or more hours before the race was due to pass. An hour before the caravan arrived – an hour of sponsors' and promoters' vehicles: specially adapted and transformed lorries and cars, with people throwing goodies like sweets, bags of croissants, flags and banners, whistles and toys, into the crowd. Five minutes before the race arrived, the sun disappeared and ferocious rain started. The bikes whizzed past in a couple of minutes, and it was all over; the rain then stopped.

There is also the Tour de Normandie which is a similar race, but is accompanied by a randonnée cycliste, a non-competitive open to anyone ride through Normandy. Last year we encountered the randonnée unexpectedly. To get to our house one has to go along a number of roads which are basically one lane wide. We turned off a two lane road into a one lane, having seen quite a few bikes crossing ahead of us as we approached. Once we entered the narrow road it was obvious that we were on the route of the randonnée. This was because as far as we could see there was an endless series of cyclists approaching, individually or in groups filling the road.

There was no point in trying to proceed, so we just parked in a field gateway and waited for them all to pass. This took a couple of hours: there were about 3000 riders formally participating, but many others joined in for the fun of it. There was no racing, just an endless stream of bikes, ancient and modern, racing bikes, granny bikes, mountain bikes, vintage bikes. Riders of all ages, male, female and indifferent. And because this was France, every one of the riders said 'Bonjour' as they went past us.

Young riders waiting for the start

Teams from all over the region

Family affair

And they're off

Cycling is for everyone. We had a load of gravel delivered, and gave the driver a cup of coffee. He told us he cycled about 150km every weekend, but 250km the previous one for a club competition. He also said he was retiring in a couple of weeks. Then there is the annual fête at a little village called La Lande d'Airou (population 509) which includes cycle races that attract competitors from all over Normandy. There are races for all ages, from five year olds, under 10s, 11-15, and adults. It is all taken very seriously, with roads closed, cups and trophies for winners, and pretty good crowds of spectators. The four photos show a bit of what it was like.

Cycling is indeed part of the French identity. Their poor performance in the Olympics, and the failure to win the Tour de France for many years, is a huge embarrassment.

On yer bike?

The French of course take cycling very seriously. All through the year you will see cyclists in tight fitting club uniforms in bright colours, steaming along all the country roads, in ones and twos or sometimes a whole club of a couple of dozen identically costumed people, in a group, or spread out of several kilometres. Midweek, many of these cyclists are quite elderly men and women. While we no longer young English chaps never get much more exercise and excitement than discovering a new cardigan in Districenter or Gemo, our French equivalents are covering 100 km at high speed. For the fun of it. They may look wind battered and wiry, with faces like WH Auden in the sun, and wear hideously multicoloured nylon costumes and hats stolen from aliens, but my word they are healthy. Even sometimes into their eighties.


There are cycle races all through the year, big and small. The biggest of course is the Tour de France, and one of the second rank is the Tour de Normandie, which is happening right now at the end of March 2010. I don't read the sports pages in the papers anywhere, and haven't seen the local Ouest France for a a couple of weeks. I was thus utterly surpriased to find myself heading straight into  the Tour de Normandie last Saturday. We were driving through the Forêt de St Sever-Calvados on a road we often take, when suddenly a group of motorcycle cops with blue lights and sirens came screaming along the road towards us, and waved us to stop, and pull off the road. Not easy because there was a ditch, and very little else. They were immediately followed by a dozen or so other motorcycles with two up and signs saying 'Officiel' on the front, and then thirty or forty vans and cars, all covered in big ads, and most with half a dozen bikes on the top. That was when we began to think that the Tour was also going through the forest...


A couple of minutes later, more blue lights and sirens, and a group of about 15 cyclists in their midst, and then yet more vans and cars with bikes on top. We thought this must have been the end, and began to move off. More officials whizzed up and told us to stop again. After five minutes we could hear a roaring noise, like a train, and over 100 cyclists screamed by at full speed, throwing empty drink bottles, food pouches and other stuff as they passed.  They were so close together that it seemed that they could only be avoiding crashing by synchronising their pedalling. Five seconds and they were gone. Following them were more support cars, vans and bikes. And a group of people coming along picking up the rubbish the riders had thrown down. Two minutes later, it was all over, and we could drive on.


I had never actually seen a major cycle race up close, but the noise of the bikes, the speed at which they were going, and the closeness of the bunch were all quite extraordinary.


Cyclists having priority over motorists is not just something that applies to organised races, it is respected everywhere. Drivers will slow down, pull out to the left, and give way to cyclists as a matter of habit, whether the cyclist is a young racer training for the Tour, or an elderly lady coming back from the market, or a farmer who has already lost his driving licence wobbling home from the bar. Not like the UK, where cyclists are usually invisible, or if they are seen are perceived as two dimensional and need no space. Because cycling is respectable and respected, something like the Paris Velib system is very successful. Bike stands are everywhere, and the bikes are used by all sorts of people, from elegant lady lawyers with their briefs in the front basket, to elderly gentlemen with substantial bellies and award winning moustaches. Of course it also helps that Paris is much smaller than say London, and fairly flat, but the Mayor of London, Boris Johnson, a cyclist himself, is planning a similar system. Whether the bikes will last more than a couple of days without being stolen, vandalised or destroyed is still unknown.