July began under a little gray cloud. Wilfred and I planned to be in France with our Reve Grand Tour project, but with only a half-dozen riders confirmed for the 2011 team in April, we were nine short of the 15 we needed to green light the trip. We're optimistic that we'll get our numbers next time around since everyone will have a full year to train. Look for some good news here and on the Reve site soon; 2012 is on.

Like the rest of you I was glued to this year's tour. The major story lines and subplots just kept coming, and nothing, with the possible exception of Gilbert winning Stage one seemed predictable. I should have put some money on that one after Roman Kreuziger made him a lock while we were in Switzerland photographing Specialized's Tarmac SL4 in the middle of June (above). Seems the whole peloton believed he was unbeatable right out the gate.

As the body count rose during the first week's carnage it was difficult to see how this could turn out to be one of the best Tours in memory. Narrow roads, crosswinds and inattention clearly played a role but I thought the main reason there were so many crashes was the lack of a real patron in the peloton. With Contador's status in doubt, we were left with the soft-spoken Schlecks and Cadel as the potential GC captains. Of course they all turned out to have plenty of grit later on but none of them exerted the magnetic force (of attraction and repulsion) that Armstrong did to keep the pack in line.

In the absence of a single dominant force it seemed anything could happen, and by the time that French TV car took out Flecha and Hoogerland, it had. That got me scared. I was reasonably comfortable on the moto during the Tour of California but I was super nervous watching the peloton and vehicles negotiate the TDF stages on TV. It's likely I'll never find out if I've got the guts to shoot a mountain stage at race pace in the TDF... maybe that's a good thing. I'm actually amazed these collisions don't happen more often.

Hushovd was the first big surprise, power climbing with Gilbert and Cadel and riding with all of his veteran wile to keep the yellow jersey for a week, then topping that with two tactically-brilliant stage wins. After demonstrating he could climb away from a breakaway in Stage 13 I don't know how he managed to get away with it again in Stage 16.

It was good to see Cav and Greipel bury the hatchet, clasping hands after Marks victory in Stage 11 (repeated after the final sprint in Paris). Like boxers who trash talk each other before a fight, when they've traded blows in the ring, respect invariably replaces bravado.

While all of that was inspiring, it was just an appetizer for Voeckler's second act. His gritty performance in the Pyrenees hanging with the best climbers in the sport, closing the gaps and fighting for wheels was the best thing I've seen at the Tour in years. Andy had yet to prove he would actually take a chance to win the race, and frankly all that looking over his shoulder for his brother was irritating the hell out of me. Tommy more than filled the void, and even when he made the wrong decision to try for that solo bridge in the Alps you couldn't help but root for him. Surely he proved something to himself, but it remains to be seen if he can rise to that level next year, just ask Bradley Wiggins about that. I think anyone who loves cycling hopes he does, he'd be a great champion and I don't blame the French for getting a little tired of everyone else winning their race.

Ultimately he couldn't manage those last mountain stages where Andy cast aside his conservatism and Cadel proved his tenacity and class. The whole Europcar team, particularly Rolland was solid in support, I think they took him as far as they could and validated their invitation to race.

Last but not least, how amazing was Jens this year. Forty and still beating the living daylights out of everyone riding that merciless tempo on the front. I hope he never retires.

Perhaps it's ironic that this year's ToC finally gave the veteran Mr. Horner his day in the sun... when so much of the race seemed to celebrate the younger end of the peloton. Peter Sagan, Ben Swift, Ben King, Tejay Van Garderen, Matt Goss; all under 25, certainly took their turns at the front. Ben King in particular was approachable and friendly with fans before every stage, I think he's got star potential and the crowds were enthusiastic everywhere he went.

Cycling becomes a strange spectator sport when most of the crowd have ridden their bikes up a mountain. Yesterday's stage from Claremont to Mt. Baldy simultaneously demonstrated our devotion and short attention span re the great sport. On the good side, I was amazed at the effort everyone made on those super steep ramps to ride to the top. About a mile below the summit with a view of a two stretches of road I spent three hours bantering with the ascending peloton of fans. In spite of their suffering, everyone was quick with a smile (I'll have a big gallery of shots up on Zenfolio in a couple of days... you may be there); I loved that.

I didn't love the fact that the same crowd started down the mountain on bikes before the race had finished. Hundreds started the descent while there were still 40 riders coming up the mountain. Not only did this make for a very dangerous situation, but the fans missed half of the opportunity to watch the PROs. Had they been a little more patient they would have seen their favorite riders speeding down the mountain, instead of getting in their way.

Watching the pros descend, knee against top tube, is just a thrilling as watching them come up. I saw them all come down and predictably, stage winner Levi Leipheimer was last. Nobody else was paying any attention. I find that strange.

Yesterday's moto feast had a cost... a two hour drive back to Seaside to pick up the car left me too tired to head towards Solvang last night. Instead I grabbed a hotel room in Seaside and drove the three and a half hours to Solvang this morning, arriving just 20 minutes before the TT start.

I had no time to check the course or to figure out how to get away from the busiest streets in town where clean backgrounds were in short supply, and where one photographer appeared just as the final five riders were coming through my position, using pocket wizards on the same channel as my flash (hence he fired my flash with his camera). Ordinarily I'd have told him to "jog" back to his original position down the street where he'd been working with no effect on my gear, but rather than have that conversation I just picked up my rig and walked away. I should have stayed, it was just getting dialed and the last few riders was no time to move.

It's funny to contrast the two days. Yesterday I was on the inside and couldn't have been closer to the race. Today I was on the outside, quite literally I never stepped foot inside the barriers. Weird. Normally I enjoy shooting TTs because you can really work on a particular shot given multiple, evenly spaced subjects rocketing by. Not today. All that driving had me a little punchy.

As soon as Horner crossed the line I made for the car and headed towards Claremont. Four hours later, through slinky-like LA traffic I made it to a hotel, my first decent dinner of a fast-food week and the shortest editing session of the Tour so far.

Wish I could say I'll be on a moto tomorrow for what will be the definitive highlight of this year's race, but it's not in the cards. Next year I'm coming credential loaded for bear; you heard it hear first. Instead it's a shuttle to Baldy's crown straight from the start. With some sleep I'll make the best of it. Two stages to go.

You're in the peleton and feel the race ebb and surge. The big BMW powers through a series of S turns at 65mph on our way back to the front after a static roadside shot of the peloton. We do this all day for 135 miles and it's brilliant. My driver John is a 35-year veteran motorcycle policeman from Adelaide Australia. This is his first moto assigment in a major race; mine too and we have a blast.

There's no pressure and as a result we get a pile of good images. I say "we" because this is a total team effort between photographer and driver. The chaos of the peloton demands the full attention of all four eyes in this partnership as gaps appear and disappear in an instant in this sometimes bloody ballet of riders, team cars, and motorbikes.

Early on John pushes the bike and my nerve down the from Laguna Seca to highway 68. He tells me "no worries, we still had a good 15 mph more there... easy". I'm glad I'm wearing the Rev'it jacket and pants recommended by Luca, and the convertible Nolan helmet flips up and down conveniently when we're pushing on ahead for the grand vista shot. It's not easy to get the camera to cooperate at times but as the morning goes on the working routine gets better, I make a few gear adjustments and things start to click.

The big story on the day is all the work that Radioshack and Liquigas are doing. The two Kings; Ben and Ted are at or near the front virtually all day and when the hammer goes down and the peloton is giving it full gas, you can't believe what it's like to slide alongside the big train.

Torn kits and bloody faces are visible reminders of the day's damage; a couple of riders are transported away after one of those random straight road accidents that probably result from a touch of wheels. A squirrel also become a victim racing across the road through the peloton and gets caught by a wheel. Rider stays up, squirrel goes down for good. A groan goes up from the peloton for the poor little guy.

Eventually we cruise into Pasa Robles where the town and the school kids are out in force. I shoot the obligatory finish pics as baby-face Peter Sagan stamps his authority on the sprint to reward his team's solid work all day. Juli has driven down from San Jose to pick me up and drive me back to Seaside where my car has been left. That's where I am now after sleeping the sleep of the dead.

Here are a few images. For some this tiny reproduction can't do them justice. Big prints are called for. Quick shower and shave before long drive to Solvang TT.

Stage 5 tomorrow and I'm on my first moto of the Tour, 135 miles of coverage.

The peloton and Team Sky in particular seemed in a really good mood today. Plenty of smiles and laughter before, during and after the race. It's too late to write anything more. With some help from one of the moto drivers I picked up some new gear at the BMW dealership in Modesto. More to follow.

Not quite sure how I'm resisting the gravitational pull of the hotel bed behind me, but here goes with a few words and images from today's stage of the ATOC. Again full marks to the organizers for a good call in Tahoe, but I can't help feeling the riders blew a real opportunity yesterday to demonstrate they are ready to assume a leadership role in their own sport. With their input a good decision was made in the interest of rider safety, but what about Tahoe? Instead of disappearing immediately into the hotel and team buses I wish they'd grabbed warmer gear (it was needed) and spent an hour signing autographs, taking pictures with fans, showing off their bikes and maybe popping a wheelie or two.

It was cold, but Tahoe deserved a little more warmth from the peloton. Again I'll cite the NASCAR example. If they had to call off an event you can bet drivers would be signing autographs and t-shirts, doing donuts in the parking lot... and generally connecting with their fans.

And to the question of whether the ATOC should go back to Tahoe and risk the unpredictability of the Sierras next year; my answer is a resounding yes. This is what many of us asked for; a chance to take our race into our Mountains (capital M). We got unlucky this year, but other than the good folks of Tahoe no one really suffered. I say tee it up again, we're due for some better luck in the weather department. And if it keeps raining we have one more argument for the jackasses who still question climate change.

Two locations today. A short punchy climb just beyond the Nevada City start. The peloton went by en masse in 20 seconds or less. The finish circuit in Sacramento was a little better but my best stuff today were faces.

With still photographers relegated to a position well back from the line for TV's sake, I gambled on a position in the Rabobank VIP area courtesy of a Tour for Kika friend. I was half the distance to the line in a perfect spot for Mr. Swift's triumph but I didn't count on the bloody cell phones. Virtually every person stuck an arm out with a cell phone, playing havoc with AF, and forcing me to pick up the riders too late to get the key shot. Had it kept raining hard for that last circuit it would have worked. The cell phones ran for cover when the sprinkles got heavier.

Notes: Andrew Messick, Jim Birrell and Bob Roll all looked good today in Classic softshell's courtesy of Rapha. HTC had a full complement of their New Team Issue Venge bikes; Saxo had a couple of McLaren Venges in the mix (still my favorite).

How Cold Was It Out There

When bears come out of the woods to warm their paws by the fire you know it's bloody cold. Actually, the corkscrew ramp about seven miles into today's planned route alternated between gusts of heavy, wet snow and isolated pockets of sun. We had quite the party going until the news of the stage cancellation came over the radio shortly after what would have been the delayed 1:15 PM start. I think everyone had been having such a good time (beverages were involved) that they took it in stride. No one second guessed the decision and most started to pack up their paraphernalia and head back to town.

Later, as numerous tweets from riders on the way to Squaw Valley confirmed, it turned out the organizers made precisely the right call. Further up the West side of the lake the road was much worse and it would have been dangerous to attempt the stage. I'm back in South Tahoe for a second night, hoping I can make the drive to wherever tomorrow's stage starts. By Monday evening we'll be down in Sacramento one way or another.

One More

This landscape is for Douglas - you'd like shooting up here

A few "weather" images from the pre-dawn streets of Tahoe. The wind is whipping the snow about and there's enough lying on the ground that I think they'll have to call the stage. They still have a couple of hours for things to change but right now it's blowing pretty good. The snow doesn't seem to have any effect on the drunks leaving the casinos - they were out in force this morning.