Montmartre in Paris does not hide under a bushel when it comes to its day to day business. Venture there on any other day – exercise caution if you blush easily – and you will be left in no doubt that in this quirky corner of the city of love, sex sells.
Juxtaposed slightly awkwardly with one of the city's holiest spots – the Sacre Coeur church, perched appropriately high on the hill above – the famous red windmill of the Moulin Rouge towers over a boulevard lined extravagantly and unapologetically with sex shops.
But on this day in Paris everyone was here, wholly and resolutely, for something else entirely. The Tour de France was on its way and, non-judgemental as it is, it would be visiting both Montmartre and the Sacre Coeur – both three times – on its way to the finish line on the Champs-Elysées.
Many pub arguments have taken place and many lines of copy have been filed since ASO announced back in January that the Tour de France would make its Montmartre diversion and mimic part of the Paris Olympics road race.
What about tradition? Mightn't it be dangerous? What about the sprinters, who would likely miss out on their 'unofficial world championships'?
Riders of all kinds have weighed in, often negatively, with former uber-sprinter Marcel Kittel saying he felt "pain in my sprinter's heart", and GC hopeful Jonas Vingegaard predicting it would be a stressful way to end the race.
So many opinions, so much chatter, and it all came down to one frantic half-hour: a half-hour that drove the fans wild.
For while almost everybody had something to say about the Montmartre finish, few were divided over one thing – it was going to be a hell of a spectacle.
On the day itself, all the signs were there. Hours before the the riders were due to pass through, the cobbled slopes between the Sacre Coeur up top and Montmartre down at the bottom, were heaving with fans – of all kinds. From tourists with families, to traditional casquetted bike fans to beery Brits, all life was here. And they hailed from all over. French accents abound, of course, but Dutch, Italian, US, those Brits, and all points in-between were readily heard.
The shops were spilling over with Tour de France merchandise, all priced on the hot side, from €20 miniature teddy bears to €40 tees. Whether or not people were actually buying them was another thing – one dejected Montmartre shop owner told me that despite a huge publicity push in the previous weeks, his stock wasn't shifting.
Perhaps fans had their minds on other things – like the race, and finding the best vantage point from which to watch it.
As has often been the case in this final week of the Tour, the weather made a creditable attempt at spoiling the party, waiting for everyone to get comfortably perched in their summery best before unleashing a deluge. But we knew the drill – we'd seen this all before – and while there were a few initial scatterers, within a few minutes, waterproofs were donned, umbrellas were produced, and the party continued.
Perched just beyond the King of the Mountains line on a downhill left-hander, I took up position with hundreds of others who lined the roads both on the inside and outside of the bend. Walls became grandstand seats and any suitable piece of street furniture was recruited into the Tour de France viewing cause.
As the kilometres clicked down, the crowd took the slightest opportunity to find its voice. Any race vehicle that passed, any police moto – even a random race official riding by on an e-bike, was cheered on throatily as though it was Tadej Pogačar himself in full flight.
After roaring through so many false starts, the telltale helicopter hoved into view and the rapt crowd, as one, watched it edge ever closer, until it disappeared behind a close-by building and, voila, mayhem ensued. First the race lead car, then blue-lit police bikes and then, resplendent in yellow, thrashing at the pedals, Pogačar leading a long string of the best riders in the world.
The noise was deafening as the whole place erupted, screaming the riders past the Sacre Couer. But this was a crowd that was more than ready to share the love, and it roared unrelentingly until the final rider had passed – and then roared some more.
The organisers and, especially, the riders, had offered us a gift, and we all accepted gratefully with both hands.
The reviews afterwards from those that lived out the pointy end of the show – the riders – were mostly positive, though not entirely.
British rider Lewis Askey (Groupama FDJ) described it as "crazy", saying: "We've had crazy crowds the whole three weeks but this was something else… it was incredible."
Jonas Vingegaard, however, admitted that he did not enjoy it – but his team-mate sat next to him, Wout van Aert felt rather differently. He qualified his praise for the idea of being able to race till the last by saying that it could not have been run safely without taking those GC times before the tricky cobbles began.
In a similar fashion, fourth-placed Oscar Onley (Picnic PostNL) said he was glad the final section was neutralised for GC but added: "It was really nice, the last time up Montmartre, I could kind of soak it up with the guys around me."
Rain or no rain, Montmartre delivered today. Tour director Christian Prudhomme has already hinted that the race stray from its traditional flat, Champs-Elysées finish in the future, and today will surely have given him even more food for thought.
