Those udders look like they need a milking.
Yesterday I fired my shot - today I felt it. Contemplating life and the plight of roadside cattle, I plodded my way up the final climb of the day/stage. Their bells rang taunts more so than encouragement. Bullshit - this climb isn't 2.5%, it's all 6%!
Still, there is no such thing as a shitty day riding bikes in France. Today was great, I had the pleasure of descending with Mr. Bakke until he also rode away, and the week has been great, capped off with a Geneva fountain-bath, and probably the best burger I have ever tasted.
Stage 8 is progressing interestingly - Trev is completely blitzed after chugging one beer, half of us are falling asleep at the table, and there is an inside-out chamois hanging at our table in a nice Geneva restaurant.
It's been a great week - that seems like it began an eon ago, with Nice now a distant memory behind thousands of meters climbed, dozens of unbelievable glances over the shoulder, and hundreds of laughs about everything and anything.
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