Tour de France: “Alpe d'Huez was hell,” a meeting with Claire, the peloton's slate chef

Rain and a north wind. Wedged to the back of her bike, Claie Pédrono faced the elements on Sunday at the start of the second stage between Leuwin-Planque and Boulogne-sur-Mer. The Tour de France slate, now in its twelfth edition, has seen others. "It's one of the unexpected, especially in July, but when it rains, I manage. I write the gaps at the last minute so it doesn't drip. It's not fun, but I'm more afraid of the cold," explains the woman whose job it is to give the gaps between the breakaway riders and the peloton when they exceed thirty seconds.

Her working tools are limited to a few pieces of chalk slipped into her pocket and her trusty slate. Thanks to three motorcycles that regularly calculate the gaps communicated to her by radio, she is the most faithful barometer of those who have taken to their heels and the bulk of the troops in pursuit, all while yo-yoing between the two parties. A wipe of a sponge, a few figures in chalk and that's it. In this age of all technology, nothing more effective has been found. "It's more reliable than GPS," assures the Morbihan woman who showed considerable audacity fifteen years ago to land this mission.

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"I went for it with the nerve, standing in front of Christian Prudhomme with my CV and cover letter. I told him, I have no contacts or network, but I'm ready to take anything as a job to work on the Tour de France." It was a win! The big boss of the Tour de Picardie agreed to test her on the Tour de Picardie. Bluffing: "I'd never ridden a motorbike before, but I didn't say anything..." The Breton woman passed the test without a hitch and secured the coveted position in the caravan. "I'm privileged because I'm in contact with the riders, very close to them, throughout the stage. I feel their pain, their suffering, and their efforts," she admits, feeling like she's at the heart of the reactor. "I sometimes see attacks being prepared in secret. One year, I noticed the exchanges between Europcar riders in the middle of the peloton. I immediately spotted it and said to my bike: "You'll see, they're going to attack" and it didn't miss, a few moments later, they were off. It was great."

Over the years, Claire has made a name for herself in the peloton. The face of this experienced cyclist has become familiar to the riders. "I sometimes chat with them ," she confides. "Pogacar, Cavendish or Alaphilippe were used to seeing me, but outside of the stage, I respect their bubble. They are already in great demand by the media, I am not going to bother them." Except when she dares to go and ask for a photo on the Champs-Élysées from Tadej Pogacar with her toddler. It is 2022 on the Champs-Élysées and Vingegaard has just been crowned. "He was really nice even though he had been beaten. It touched me a lot," she says.

There were also less cheerful moments. When a French rider, whose name she withheld, made a nasty remark to her in the middle of a stage. "He wanted me to stay with him more, but there was a fifteen-minute gap with the peloton and I had to commute. He apologized afterward, and we've had a good relationship ever since," smiles the Auray native who, outside of this enchanted interlude on the Grande Boucle, supports companies in the banking sector.

Her main fear is getting stuck on the road, having a breakdown on the back of her bike. "It almost happened once," she continues. There's also the public, often benevolent, sometimes unruly: "I've always avoided being sprayed with urine, but I know it happens... There's also the climb up the passes sometimes. In 2022, the climb up Alpe d'Huez was hell, I stood up on the back of the bike to push the crowd aside. It wasn't my job, but I had to." She also strayed a little from her mission when, on her first lap, she encouraged the Belgian Philippe Gilbert in the tough race. " I was made to understand that I shouldn't do it ," she smiles. It was just empathy because I feel like they are sharing a bit of their suffering with me and when someone who has escaped can't take it anymore and lets go, it really hits you in the guts, of course ."

After more than 3,300 km across France every summer, five hours a day playing the contortionist even though she insists that her place on the back of the bike is comfortable, Claire ends up broken. Chopped to pieces. "I end up at the osteopath after the finish." But nothing to do with the edition of her hazing when she finished sick in the third week, her stomach in a mess: "They wanted to replace me. I ended up really wrecked but I held on because I was the first woman to do this job. I knew I was expected, I had three interviews in the morning and as many in the evening! I didn't give up," sighs the one who wouldn't give up her place for anything in the world even if it cost her to take four weeks off to be on the Tour de France (and an extra one to cover Paris-Nice in March). "That's what you call a consuming passion," she concludes.

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