Got out for a quick and climby ride this morning before staking out a spot under a plane tree, high on the wall in the yard of the village's 14th century church, to wait for the Tour de France riders to pass. The crowd trickled in, we poured beers into jars. The caravan rolled though and soon after, with a honk, a buzz and a woosh, the breaks and the peloton careened down Caromb's narrow ring road and hooked a right towards Crillon Le Brave, Bedoin and their finish for the day at the top of Mont Ventoux
