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A Soigneur's Story
by Martyn Frank | 30/07/09
It’s 4.02 am and this is my first real experience of jet lag and it sucks. It is also the end of my first experience in Asia; China to be exact.
Back in January when I was the soigneur for the team’s first training camp in Malaga, I was speaking with my DS, John Herety, to ask which races I should do. The Tours of Ireland and Britain were first on the list and then something a bit different, John guided me to the Tour of Qinghai Lake.
I’m not a big traveller, but I have always classed myself as a people person and to go to the most highly populated country in the world held an attraction. As it is only my second year as a soigneur and I am still learning the ropes, this would be an ideal experience. So after some discussions with my wife and young family, I managed to get the two weeks away I craved.
On the transfer by Air China from Beijing to Xining, the plane stopped 20 meters before the tarmac ended. Certainly an eye opening if not buttock clenching start to the tour!
This tour was different from my previous foreign experiences; we had translators and drivers. Normally the soigneur would drive to the feed and then drive very fast to the finish. Here, there was a bus to take all the soigneurs to the feed and then follow the last rider into the finish. I had heard horror stories about the affectionately named ‘Party Bus’, like the driver not stopping even when the occupants had food poisoning. I was the first of the three soigneurs to go on the bus, but it turned out that it being a foreigner was good. On the drive to the feed zone I got to chat to the other English speakers, Aussies, Americans and Europeans. We had to gang up to overrule the Chinese officials so we could feed on the right. For the record, the Chinese don’t do being overruled very well.
It was coming into the finish when I had my first experience of a sick rider, diving into the verge with toilet paper, the diet had got him. This happened every time I was on the party bus with increasing regularity. Following the race route was novel as there were no roads to cut back to the finish fast. It gave us all chance to drink in the scale of the country. Everything was so big compared to the views I was used to. The party bus soon turned into the tourist bus in light of the enormous scenery.
But I said before that I class myself as a people person, and that is what I want to outline. The riders race and experience the race, but we (the staff) experience the people. We go shopping, into town, walk amongst the people and on occasion have a beer in their bars. For the whole tour people would stare and every now and again you would hear ‘hello’, if you replied fits of giggles ensued. Then it clicked, in these towns that we classed as ‘wild-west’ towns, they had not seen westerners before, so we were novel to them.
Then the autographs started, here was my 15 minutes of fame. Sign one and you were swamped by children. Hello would ring out followed by giggles. The only way I can is explain how these towns are, is by likening it to the Michael Palin programme ‘Into the Unknown’. Every town felt unpredictable, but safe. The people were friendly and enthusiastic. A strange sight was monks with mobile phones, a colleague said it’s not materialism if everyone’s got one!
Driving the course on a 180km stage the Chinese had placed a member of the party every 50 meters or so every day. Propaganda maybe, but impressive none the less, almost as impressive as all the roads being closed both ways, even the dual carriageways, hours before the race came through due to the pollution riders would breathe. Tour of Britain take note.
The everyday tasks of going about your job, climbing stairs etc. came with its own problems, living in the clouds the low oxygen content gets to you, I should not complain as I did not have to race! Food, normally a necessity became a game of Russian roulette. I was not caught by the gallops in my stay more due to the fact I did not eat much more than spaghetti every day. The day I didn’t was the day it was bad, a close shave.
My trip now over and my enduring memory is people; the colour, the smiles and the 15 minutes of fame. Now where is next year’s race programme? Negotiations start now!
