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Stage Sixteen: Bourg-de-Peage to Gap, 201km/125m
Col du Cabre: 3,871-foot climb. Max 8.6% grade. 9.1km. The leading group today is 10-plus minutes ahead, starting that ride up. It’s a hot, sunny day, but Team Sky is leading the peloton, and they are completely unconcerned. There is a shot of an AG2R rider, however, with a panty-hose leg full of ice nestled in the concave back curve of his helmet. Smart man. Many riders have opened their jerseys, and not to get a tan.
The gap rises to nearly twelve and a half minutes now. The peloton is still not pursuing. The problem, however, is that this is only the first climb. There’s a steep descent, and then, immediately, another climb. Any team who doesn’t have a rider in that first group can pretty much forget moving their guys up the GC. Sky doesn’t care: no one in that front group is close enough to challenge him for Yellow.
Augh! There’s a small crash, and one of the riders down is Stage 11-winner Rafael Majka. It’s a slow crash, which means it’s going to be more damaging: a fast crash disperses energy as you roll or slide down the road. A slow crash means everything stays in your body. Poor guy! There’s a fairly definitive flow of blood from his left knee down his calf, but he’s back on the bike, holding on to the race doctor’s car as she cleans and tends the wound. Majak has to get back to the peloton— his Saxo-Tinkoff teammate Alberto Contador will need him.
The leading group is on the descent, now, and this is the part that always terrifies me. The riders will come forward off their seats, crouched low on the crossbar, behind the handlebars, keeping as aerodynamic as possible— at 70kmph. The camera cuts to Green Jersey-wearer Peter Sagan, who is FLYING down the mountain. It’s obvious— to former superstar and now-commentator Jens Voight— that he is having a blast, doing what he does so well. Soon enough, though, he’s back with his group, having bit of a chat with the other riders. He’s having a fun day, it seems.
Down the next descent, the Tour organisers have hosed down the road, apparently trying to clear off some of the dust, and lower the temperature of the tarmac. 2003 is mentioned again and again today: the year the road was so hot, riders’ tires literally stuck to the melted road, causing an accident that resulted in Lance Armstrong coming right off his bike— mostly voluntarily— picking up his bike, running across a short stretch of field, jumping a ditch, and rejoining the race. It’s a clip that was shown on every sports segment on every news channel, over and over again. Far more seriously, however, the rider whose horrific, out of control crash he was avoiding was second-placed Joseba Beloki, who suffered serious injuries— double-broken femur, broken wrist, and a broken elbow. Though he raced again, he never fully recovered from his injuries, and retired just three years later in 2006. (There is jaw-dropping, but ultimately terrible, footage here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=50&v=h_8m5-sR6I4 )
Two riders, now, Adam Hansen of Lotto Soudal and Marco Haller of Katusha, have gone off the front of the lead group. Hansen had a nasty crash in the rain on Stage Two of our show, so a win for him would be pretty incredible.
Closeup of Chris Froome’s new bike: there’s a charging rhinoceros on it: the African rider is campaigning against poaching. Good for him!
Oh, so there IS a potential change if the lead group stays away: enough MTM-Qhubeka riders are in it that if they stay away, they will take the lead in the team standings away from Team MoviStar. But Sky is on the front of the peloton, and this isn’t a concern for them at all.
The lead two are a minute ahead, already on the climb up the Col du Manse. Surprisingly, Peter Sagan is pushing the pace of the chase group. The peloton is now NINETEEN MINUTES back. Crazy.
The 9km climb starts, and the first two riders are only 23 seconds ahead. The catch is pretty much inevitable now, as— yup, the challenges for getting to the top first begin. Haller fights back, but it’s a brief, final protest. Spaniard Ruben Plaza of Lampre attacks, managing to get some daylight on the rapidly-fracturing front group. He’s a good climber, and if he can get over the summit first, this could well be his stage. 30 seconds’ lead so far.
There are four riders chasing him, and one of them is Peter Sagan. Daniel Teklehaimanot of MTM Qhubeka is there, too. Christophe Riblon of AG2R. Simon Geschke of Giant-Alpecin. Riblon tries an attack— Sagan is on it, though, and it doesn’t last long. In fact, it looks like they’ll all be caught by yet more riders in a minute. Yup. As we go under the 15km flag, Plaza is the sole leader by 54 seconds, with a chase group of nine in pursuit.
Plaza has crossed the summit. If he can descend well and safely, it’ll be his first ever Tour de France stage win. Sagan leads the group of nine over the summit line 57 seconds behind. Plaza goes under the 10km banner, pedalling furiously. There are, we’re told, three roundabouts in the town of Gap that the riders need to navigate before crossing the finish line. Ugh.
Plaza knows this route— he’s raced her before. But that doesn’t stop him from nearly spilling as his wheels lock up for a heart-stopping second. Augh! Peter Sagan nearly overshoots a curve. Yikes! But both men are back in control within a second, and Sagan is showing all his formidable descending skills. There’s a Colombian rider, Pantano, with him— a high finish would be great for him on Colombian Independence Day. And it’s his first Tour de France! Pretty impressive! Sagan manages to drop him, finally, but Plaza is 450 meters ahead, and Sagan will never catch him in the remaining 3km.
Sure enough, he’s under the red 1km banner. He’s all alone, followed by the red officials’ car, a Mavic car, and his team car, along with several motorcycles. Plaza sits up, zips up his jersey, pumps the air with a huge grin. He took his risks, and he won. Well done! Sagan follows, pounding his chest in frustration or relief. Pantano is behind him, slumping over his handlebars as soon as he crosses.
That’s the stage, but it’s not the race.
Half an hour back, perhaps a dozen riders are trying to beat each other up. I see Froome and Quintana, Contador, Valverde, Van Garderen. Contador is trying to break away, but Froome’s complacency has vanished. Nibali tries his attack, next, and makes some space. He gets over the summit line alone— he wants to claw back as much time as he can. He still wears the number One, from winning the Tour last year. Valverde attacks, but everyone is on his tail immediately. No one is giving an inch.
They’re on the descent now, and this is where it gets dangerous. Nibali is 13 seconds ahead, but the real problem is the road itself. It is wickedly curvy, and there are ominous dark patches where the road is literally melting. It is terrifying.
AUGH! Sure enough, Warren Barguil comes into the turn too fast, loses control, wobbles, and shoulders right into Geraint Thomas on a sharp curve. Thomas is helpless to stop, and he FLIES off the course, through the tapes on the side of the road, and slams his head and shoulder into a telephone pole. He spins down violently into a ditch in the shadows of the trees, and spectators leap to help him. I feel sick.
None of the other riders can stop, of course. There are nine of them now chasing Nibali, who has a lead of 22 seconds. They’re all of them down on the flat entry to Gap. I can’t stop thinking about Thomas. I’ve been in love with his name for years— that’s why I used it in my book— and he’s always come off as a great guy, as well as a great rider. This is why helmets are mandatory. I hope it’s enough.
…The hell?
He is back on his bike. He’s still racing. He’s 40 seconds back and trying to catch up. He’s still going! JESUS CHRIST.
Nibali crosses the line, looking back to see who’s there. No one. The other nine riders come in after a brief battle.
And there is Thomas, with a Sky teammate, and he is RIGHT THERE. There isn’t a mark on him, thank G-d, and incredibly, it looks like he won’t even have harmed his sixth-overall place in the GC. Mother of G-d. This man is my hero.
Post-race commentary reminds me, now, why I remember Warren Barguil’s name. Remember that catastrophic horror of a crash on Day Three? The one that wrapped 35 guys around a lamppost? The one that fucking broke Fabian Cancellara’s back? Yeah. Guess who started that fucking train wreck? Oh, man. Dude? You’d better watch your back for a nice, long time.
There’s an interview with Geraint after the stage, and I SWEAR TO G-D, he is describing the accident as ANNOYING. He is ANNOYED. No, he’s fine, he says— some French people helped him get up, and he just got back on his bike and kept going. He is ANNOYED. Holy Jesus. He took a telephone pole to the HEAD. I’m amazed he’s not DEAD.
Barguil releases a statement: he says he was trying to pass Tejay Van Garderen, who shouldered him off. He lost his grip on his brakes, and thereby lost control. He’s very sorry, he says. Dude. Did you seriously just try to to push blame off on Tejay? Oh, you are an IDIOT. As Bobke et al state, there’s a pecking order on the road, and while you don’t try to push past other riders in a dangerous, technical descent, you especially don’t try that on older, higher-placed riders. Especially not in your first damned Tour de France.
Sigh. I love my race. Who needs dramas when you’ve got this?
Col du Cabre: 3,871-foot climb. Max 8.6% grade. 9.1km. The leading group today is 10-plus minutes ahead, starting that ride up. It’s a hot, sunny day, but Team Sky is leading the peloton, and they are completely unconcerned. There is a shot of an AG2R rider, however, with a panty-hose leg full of ice nestled in the concave back curve of his helmet. Smart man. Many riders have opened their jerseys, and not to get a tan.
The gap rises to nearly twelve and a half minutes now. The peloton is still not pursuing. The problem, however, is that this is only the first climb. There’s a steep descent, and then, immediately, another climb. Any team who doesn’t have a rider in that first group can pretty much forget moving their guys up the GC. Sky doesn’t care: no one in that front group is close enough to challenge him for Yellow.
Augh! There’s a small crash, and one of the riders down is Stage 11-winner Rafael Majka. It’s a slow crash, which means it’s going to be more damaging: a fast crash disperses energy as you roll or slide down the road. A slow crash means everything stays in your body. Poor guy! There’s a fairly definitive flow of blood from his left knee down his calf, but he’s back on the bike, holding on to the race doctor’s car as she cleans and tends the wound. Majak has to get back to the peloton— his Saxo-Tinkoff teammate Alberto Contador will need him.
The leading group is on the descent, now, and this is the part that always terrifies me. The riders will come forward off their seats, crouched low on the crossbar, behind the handlebars, keeping as aerodynamic as possible— at 70kmph. The camera cuts to Green Jersey-wearer Peter Sagan, who is FLYING down the mountain. It’s obvious— to former superstar and now-commentator Jens Voight— that he is having a blast, doing what he does so well. Soon enough, though, he’s back with his group, having bit of a chat with the other riders. He’s having a fun day, it seems.
Down the next descent, the Tour organisers have hosed down the road, apparently trying to clear off some of the dust, and lower the temperature of the tarmac. 2003 is mentioned again and again today: the year the road was so hot, riders’ tires literally stuck to the melted road, causing an accident that resulted in Lance Armstrong coming right off his bike— mostly voluntarily— picking up his bike, running across a short stretch of field, jumping a ditch, and rejoining the race. It’s a clip that was shown on every sports segment on every news channel, over and over again. Far more seriously, however, the rider whose horrific, out of control crash he was avoiding was second-placed Joseba Beloki, who suffered serious injuries— double-broken femur, broken wrist, and a broken elbow. Though he raced again, he never fully recovered from his injuries, and retired just three years later in 2006. (There is jaw-dropping, but ultimately terrible, footage here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=50&v=h_8m5-sR6I4 )
Two riders, now, Adam Hansen of Lotto Soudal and Marco Haller of Katusha, have gone off the front of the lead group. Hansen had a nasty crash in the rain on Stage Two of our show, so a win for him would be pretty incredible.
Closeup of Chris Froome’s new bike: there’s a charging rhinoceros on it: the African rider is campaigning against poaching. Good for him!
Oh, so there IS a potential change if the lead group stays away: enough MTM-Qhubeka riders are in it that if they stay away, they will take the lead in the team standings away from Team MoviStar. But Sky is on the front of the peloton, and this isn’t a concern for them at all.
The lead two are a minute ahead, already on the climb up the Col du Manse. Surprisingly, Peter Sagan is pushing the pace of the chase group. The peloton is now NINETEEN MINUTES back. Crazy.
The 9km climb starts, and the first two riders are only 23 seconds ahead. The catch is pretty much inevitable now, as— yup, the challenges for getting to the top first begin. Haller fights back, but it’s a brief, final protest. Spaniard Ruben Plaza of Lampre attacks, managing to get some daylight on the rapidly-fracturing front group. He’s a good climber, and if he can get over the summit first, this could well be his stage. 30 seconds’ lead so far.
There are four riders chasing him, and one of them is Peter Sagan. Daniel Teklehaimanot of MTM Qhubeka is there, too. Christophe Riblon of AG2R. Simon Geschke of Giant-Alpecin. Riblon tries an attack— Sagan is on it, though, and it doesn’t last long. In fact, it looks like they’ll all be caught by yet more riders in a minute. Yup. As we go under the 15km flag, Plaza is the sole leader by 54 seconds, with a chase group of nine in pursuit.
Plaza has crossed the summit. If he can descend well and safely, it’ll be his first ever Tour de France stage win. Sagan leads the group of nine over the summit line 57 seconds behind. Plaza goes under the 10km banner, pedalling furiously. There are, we’re told, three roundabouts in the town of Gap that the riders need to navigate before crossing the finish line. Ugh.
Plaza knows this route— he’s raced her before. But that doesn’t stop him from nearly spilling as his wheels lock up for a heart-stopping second. Augh! Peter Sagan nearly overshoots a curve. Yikes! But both men are back in control within a second, and Sagan is showing all his formidable descending skills. There’s a Colombian rider, Pantano, with him— a high finish would be great for him on Colombian Independence Day. And it’s his first Tour de France! Pretty impressive! Sagan manages to drop him, finally, but Plaza is 450 meters ahead, and Sagan will never catch him in the remaining 3km.
Sure enough, he’s under the red 1km banner. He’s all alone, followed by the red officials’ car, a Mavic car, and his team car, along with several motorcycles. Plaza sits up, zips up his jersey, pumps the air with a huge grin. He took his risks, and he won. Well done! Sagan follows, pounding his chest in frustration or relief. Pantano is behind him, slumping over his handlebars as soon as he crosses.
That’s the stage, but it’s not the race.
Half an hour back, perhaps a dozen riders are trying to beat each other up. I see Froome and Quintana, Contador, Valverde, Van Garderen. Contador is trying to break away, but Froome’s complacency has vanished. Nibali tries his attack, next, and makes some space. He gets over the summit line alone— he wants to claw back as much time as he can. He still wears the number One, from winning the Tour last year. Valverde attacks, but everyone is on his tail immediately. No one is giving an inch.
They’re on the descent now, and this is where it gets dangerous. Nibali is 13 seconds ahead, but the real problem is the road itself. It is wickedly curvy, and there are ominous dark patches where the road is literally melting. It is terrifying.
AUGH! Sure enough, Warren Barguil comes into the turn too fast, loses control, wobbles, and shoulders right into Geraint Thomas on a sharp curve. Thomas is helpless to stop, and he FLIES off the course, through the tapes on the side of the road, and slams his head and shoulder into a telephone pole. He spins down violently into a ditch in the shadows of the trees, and spectators leap to help him. I feel sick.
None of the other riders can stop, of course. There are nine of them now chasing Nibali, who has a lead of 22 seconds. They’re all of them down on the flat entry to Gap. I can’t stop thinking about Thomas. I’ve been in love with his name for years— that’s why I used it in my book— and he’s always come off as a great guy, as well as a great rider. This is why helmets are mandatory. I hope it’s enough.
…The hell?
He is back on his bike. He’s still racing. He’s 40 seconds back and trying to catch up. He’s still going! JESUS CHRIST.
Nibali crosses the line, looking back to see who’s there. No one. The other nine riders come in after a brief battle.
And there is Thomas, with a Sky teammate, and he is RIGHT THERE. There isn’t a mark on him, thank G-d, and incredibly, it looks like he won’t even have harmed his sixth-overall place in the GC. Mother of G-d. This man is my hero.
Post-race commentary reminds me, now, why I remember Warren Barguil’s name. Remember that catastrophic horror of a crash on Day Three? The one that wrapped 35 guys around a lamppost? The one that fucking broke Fabian Cancellara’s back? Yeah. Guess who started that fucking train wreck? Oh, man. Dude? You’d better watch your back for a nice, long time.
There’s an interview with Geraint after the stage, and I SWEAR TO G-D, he is describing the accident as ANNOYING. He is ANNOYED. No, he’s fine, he says— some French people helped him get up, and he just got back on his bike and kept going. He is ANNOYED. Holy Jesus. He took a telephone pole to the HEAD. I’m amazed he’s not DEAD.
Barguil releases a statement: he says he was trying to pass Tejay Van Garderen, who shouldered him off. He lost his grip on his brakes, and thereby lost control. He’s very sorry, he says. Dude. Did you seriously just try to to push blame off on Tejay? Oh, you are an IDIOT. As Bobke et al state, there’s a pecking order on the road, and while you don’t try to push past other riders in a dangerous, technical descent, you especially don’t try that on older, higher-placed riders. Especially not in your first damned Tour de France.
Sigh. I love my race. Who needs dramas when you’ve got this?