Stages 16 and 17.
Jul. 24th, 2008 03:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleStage 16 and 17
Stage 16: Cuneo to Jausiers (157km)
Yesterday was not pretty.
The men who determine the course of the Tour de France often do so with particularly brutal, sadistic enthusiasm. Yesterday’s course took the Tour along the highest road in Europe. And as if that weren’t enough, threw in two mountains. Mountains with not only gruesome ascents, but utterly terrifying descents.
Towards the end of the stage, the youngest rider in the Tour,John-Lee Augustyn of France, who turns the ripe old age of twenty one on Saturday, took off from the front of the Peloton. It was obvious he meant to grab the glory of the first over the mountain for himself. Although the Barloworld rider is nowhere on GC, it was impossible not to cheer his amazing effort as he left not just any riders, but the GC stars behind. And he did it: 40 points in the King of the Mountain competition, and 5,000 euros for being first over the line at the highest point in the 2008 Tour.
But the problem with being the youngest rider in the Tour is that it often means you’re one of the lesser-experienced riders in the Tour. And unfortunately, when a big part of your day consists of a very technical, very dangerous, very, very, VERY fast descent down a mountain, you really do need to know what you’re doing.
No one died. That’s the important thing. But John-Lee followed the wrong line down a switchback, and, as if in slow-motion, went straight at the low earthen barrier on his left, flipped right over it, and went straight down the mountain. Face first.
Next shot the helicopter gets is this poor guy sprawled, head-downwards, flat on his stomach in the loose, arid, rocky ground. In his bike shoes, with clips under the balls of his feet and absolutely no traction whatsoever, the steep climb back up to the road looked absolutely impossible. And it probably would have been—G-d knows, his bike certainly wasn’t ever coming back—had it not been for a random race fan who leaped over the edge to help him back up.
Amazingly, his team car made it from G-d-knows-where up to him in no time flat, and John-Lee finished only five and a half minutes off the lead, coming in at 35th position.
Mountain stages are where this race is battered apart on the rocks. A rider can be literally top of the game on the flat stages: an excellent sprinter, an endurance rider, someone with an excellent team and superior strategy. But once you get into the mountains, you’re either a competent climber or you’re not. Remember four-time stage winner Mark Cavendish from last week? He’s not even here any more. He knew trying to keep up in the mountains would probably kill him, and to no use. So he flew home to get ready for the Olympics. This is where you might not win the race, but you sure as hell can lose it. 179 men finished Stage One. 151 will finish today.
And first to finish today is the French rider Cyril Dessel of AG2R as he breaks from the four-man group that’s been battling for the lead. He’s half a wheel in the lead over the line, but that’s enough. He’s won the stage. He’s so exhausted he twitches, as if to give the traditional raised-arms salute to victory—but then doesn’t even bother. The rest of the field is the same—it’s been a brutal day. And Frank Schleck hangs on to the maillot jaune for one more stage.
Stage 17: Embrun to L'Alpe-d'Huez (210.5km)
Three beyond-category climbs on this stage, dubbed “The Queen Stage.” Three. At 79km, the riders hit the 2645m summit of the Col du Galibier. At 156km, it’s the 2067m Col de la Croix de Fer. And then it gets really, really nasty: the 1680m high Alpe d’Huez. How is the lowest summit the worst? Because it’s vicious. It’s twenty-one switchbacks and 14k of unbelievable pain at an AVERAGE 7.9% incline. It’s the Big Bad of the Tour de France. It’s the mountain kids dream about when they first get on a bike—they want to be Lance Armstrong in ’01 & ‘04, and they want to be first over this mountain.
As expected, the field has broken into groups. By the time we hit the Col de la Croix de Fer, Peter Velits of Milram has broken off the front, grabbing a newspaper held out helpfully by a spectator to cover his chest for the dizzying fall from the line.
But as we turn towards the approach to l’Alpe d’Huez, everything changes again. A single turn to the left begins the assault. Velits is caught by Jerome Pineau. They lead for a short while, and then the attacks begin. Carlos Sastre of CSC attacks and attacks until he’s riding alone in front as he did most of the day yesterday, which is in and of itself pretty amazing. Two days in a row? Is he human? Right behind him by two minutes is the battling first chase, full of the race royalty—including his teammates, the Schleck brothers: Andy, in the White Jersey of Best Young Rider, and Frank, in Yellow. Christian Vandevelde, highest-laced American, is there. Cadel Evans. Alejandro Valverde. Bernhard Kohl, current King of the Mountains. The noise is unbelievable—there are one million people on this mountain—the most famous mountain in the sport. L’Alpe d’Huez will, honestly, make you or kill you and everyone who knows anything about this race will tell you that. All these people are here to see who survives, and who dies. They crowd the path tighter and tighter the higher we get, barely giving the riders space to pass.
The Schlecks take control for a bit. Christian Vandevelde is looking to make up some of the 3’15” he needs to take the lead, so he attacks. Cadel Evans, consistently among the top GC riders, isn’t having any of it. Denis Menchov fights his way back into the group. It’s unbelievable to see all these athletes fighting minute by minute up the mountain. They’re all within five minutes of each other in the standings—any of them could do anything.
We’re just over 6km to the end. There are ten riders in this group, just over a minute behind CSC’s Carlos Sastre. They’re watching each other like vultures or reality TV contestants: who’s weak? Who can we knock off? 5k to the summit. 5k to the end for Sastre—fans are running up the road beside him, waving flags in his face, screaming encouragement, going absolutely nuts. Some flaming assholes slap him on the back or the ass. I’m not saying it’s not tempting, but dude. Refrain.
Vladimir Efemkin of Ag2R pushes the pace—Andy Schleck is chasing, but it’s obvious the group’s feeling the strain. No one will give up. They’re grinding through a tunnel of screaming, half-naked men (most of the fans have been up on this mountain drinking and partying for DAYS) who don’t seem to care that they look utterly ridiculous running alongside the riders, in their horned helmets and capes made from the flags of their various countries of origin. The runners, that is, not the riders.
At 3k to the end, at last, Sastre, and then the other riders, enter the part of the road lined with barricades. There’s no less noise, but a little less danger of collision with a guy carrying an inflatable kangaroo. 2k. Sastre is riding steadily, 2’20” ahead. The road is covered with huge white names and hearts and messages of encouragement. There are flags everywhere, people cheering in every language.
Sastre has 1000m to go. Down the road, the attacks begin, each man jockeying for position to be closest to Sastre’s time.
The riders are beating the hell out of each other: attack after attack. It is incredibly exciting and incredibly painful to watch. Carlos Sastre doesn’t give a damn. He is alone—and he is the winner. He crosses the line alone—kissing his CSC team jersey and punching the air as he does so. It will be over two minutes until the next rider crosses. He has taken not only the stage but the yellow jersey of Tour Leader. He is the seventh man to lead the ’08 Tour.
The clock is now ticking. Here comes fellow Spaniard Sammy Sanchez of Euskatel Euskadi, chased by Frank’s brother Andy. Andy is determined to make this a One-Two win for CSC—but Sanchez gets him on the line. Here comes the yellow jersey on Frank! Cadel Evans is there—and he’s not lost that much time. There’s a time trial tomorrow and that’s something at which he shines. Valverde, Vandevelde, all the rest: they look like they’re dead and just don’t have time yet to fall over.
Yet seemingly minutes later, they’re sitting at their team busses, chatting with reporters, getting their awards. (Carlos Sastre is zipped into his shiny new maillot jaune on the podium by none other than Michael Douglas.) I keep thinking, well, that’s just TV. But no. Not necessarily. Yes, they’ve just climbed three mountains on their bikes over the course of hours and hours in the sun. For most humans, this would mean a month’s recuperation in a peaceful place with smiling, soothing attendants and no cell phones allowed.
But these guys are going to go back to some random hotels, get massages, get some sleep, and do it all again tomorrow.
Better they than I, bless them.
Stage 16: Cuneo to Jausiers (157km)
Yesterday was not pretty.
The men who determine the course of the Tour de France often do so with particularly brutal, sadistic enthusiasm. Yesterday’s course took the Tour along the highest road in Europe. And as if that weren’t enough, threw in two mountains. Mountains with not only gruesome ascents, but utterly terrifying descents.
Towards the end of the stage, the youngest rider in the Tour,John-Lee Augustyn of France, who turns the ripe old age of twenty one on Saturday, took off from the front of the Peloton. It was obvious he meant to grab the glory of the first over the mountain for himself. Although the Barloworld rider is nowhere on GC, it was impossible not to cheer his amazing effort as he left not just any riders, but the GC stars behind. And he did it: 40 points in the King of the Mountain competition, and 5,000 euros for being first over the line at the highest point in the 2008 Tour.
But the problem with being the youngest rider in the Tour is that it often means you’re one of the lesser-experienced riders in the Tour. And unfortunately, when a big part of your day consists of a very technical, very dangerous, very, very, VERY fast descent down a mountain, you really do need to know what you’re doing.
No one died. That’s the important thing. But John-Lee followed the wrong line down a switchback, and, as if in slow-motion, went straight at the low earthen barrier on his left, flipped right over it, and went straight down the mountain. Face first.
Next shot the helicopter gets is this poor guy sprawled, head-downwards, flat on his stomach in the loose, arid, rocky ground. In his bike shoes, with clips under the balls of his feet and absolutely no traction whatsoever, the steep climb back up to the road looked absolutely impossible. And it probably would have been—G-d knows, his bike certainly wasn’t ever coming back—had it not been for a random race fan who leaped over the edge to help him back up.
Amazingly, his team car made it from G-d-knows-where up to him in no time flat, and John-Lee finished only five and a half minutes off the lead, coming in at 35th position.
Mountain stages are where this race is battered apart on the rocks. A rider can be literally top of the game on the flat stages: an excellent sprinter, an endurance rider, someone with an excellent team and superior strategy. But once you get into the mountains, you’re either a competent climber or you’re not. Remember four-time stage winner Mark Cavendish from last week? He’s not even here any more. He knew trying to keep up in the mountains would probably kill him, and to no use. So he flew home to get ready for the Olympics. This is where you might not win the race, but you sure as hell can lose it. 179 men finished Stage One. 151 will finish today.
And first to finish today is the French rider Cyril Dessel of AG2R as he breaks from the four-man group that’s been battling for the lead. He’s half a wheel in the lead over the line, but that’s enough. He’s won the stage. He’s so exhausted he twitches, as if to give the traditional raised-arms salute to victory—but then doesn’t even bother. The rest of the field is the same—it’s been a brutal day. And Frank Schleck hangs on to the maillot jaune for one more stage.
Stage 17: Embrun to L'Alpe-d'Huez (210.5km)
Three beyond-category climbs on this stage, dubbed “The Queen Stage.” Three. At 79km, the riders hit the 2645m summit of the Col du Galibier. At 156km, it’s the 2067m Col de la Croix de Fer. And then it gets really, really nasty: the 1680m high Alpe d’Huez. How is the lowest summit the worst? Because it’s vicious. It’s twenty-one switchbacks and 14k of unbelievable pain at an AVERAGE 7.9% incline. It’s the Big Bad of the Tour de France. It’s the mountain kids dream about when they first get on a bike—they want to be Lance Armstrong in ’01 & ‘04, and they want to be first over this mountain.
As expected, the field has broken into groups. By the time we hit the Col de la Croix de Fer, Peter Velits of Milram has broken off the front, grabbing a newspaper held out helpfully by a spectator to cover his chest for the dizzying fall from the line.
But as we turn towards the approach to l’Alpe d’Huez, everything changes again. A single turn to the left begins the assault. Velits is caught by Jerome Pineau. They lead for a short while, and then the attacks begin. Carlos Sastre of CSC attacks and attacks until he’s riding alone in front as he did most of the day yesterday, which is in and of itself pretty amazing. Two days in a row? Is he human? Right behind him by two minutes is the battling first chase, full of the race royalty—including his teammates, the Schleck brothers: Andy, in the White Jersey of Best Young Rider, and Frank, in Yellow. Christian Vandevelde, highest-laced American, is there. Cadel Evans. Alejandro Valverde. Bernhard Kohl, current King of the Mountains. The noise is unbelievable—there are one million people on this mountain—the most famous mountain in the sport. L’Alpe d’Huez will, honestly, make you or kill you and everyone who knows anything about this race will tell you that. All these people are here to see who survives, and who dies. They crowd the path tighter and tighter the higher we get, barely giving the riders space to pass.
The Schlecks take control for a bit. Christian Vandevelde is looking to make up some of the 3’15” he needs to take the lead, so he attacks. Cadel Evans, consistently among the top GC riders, isn’t having any of it. Denis Menchov fights his way back into the group. It’s unbelievable to see all these athletes fighting minute by minute up the mountain. They’re all within five minutes of each other in the standings—any of them could do anything.
We’re just over 6km to the end. There are ten riders in this group, just over a minute behind CSC’s Carlos Sastre. They’re watching each other like vultures or reality TV contestants: who’s weak? Who can we knock off? 5k to the summit. 5k to the end for Sastre—fans are running up the road beside him, waving flags in his face, screaming encouragement, going absolutely nuts. Some flaming assholes slap him on the back or the ass. I’m not saying it’s not tempting, but dude. Refrain.
Vladimir Efemkin of Ag2R pushes the pace—Andy Schleck is chasing, but it’s obvious the group’s feeling the strain. No one will give up. They’re grinding through a tunnel of screaming, half-naked men (most of the fans have been up on this mountain drinking and partying for DAYS) who don’t seem to care that they look utterly ridiculous running alongside the riders, in their horned helmets and capes made from the flags of their various countries of origin. The runners, that is, not the riders.
At 3k to the end, at last, Sastre, and then the other riders, enter the part of the road lined with barricades. There’s no less noise, but a little less danger of collision with a guy carrying an inflatable kangaroo. 2k. Sastre is riding steadily, 2’20” ahead. The road is covered with huge white names and hearts and messages of encouragement. There are flags everywhere, people cheering in every language.
Sastre has 1000m to go. Down the road, the attacks begin, each man jockeying for position to be closest to Sastre’s time.
The riders are beating the hell out of each other: attack after attack. It is incredibly exciting and incredibly painful to watch. Carlos Sastre doesn’t give a damn. He is alone—and he is the winner. He crosses the line alone—kissing his CSC team jersey and punching the air as he does so. It will be over two minutes until the next rider crosses. He has taken not only the stage but the yellow jersey of Tour Leader. He is the seventh man to lead the ’08 Tour.
The clock is now ticking. Here comes fellow Spaniard Sammy Sanchez of Euskatel Euskadi, chased by Frank’s brother Andy. Andy is determined to make this a One-Two win for CSC—but Sanchez gets him on the line. Here comes the yellow jersey on Frank! Cadel Evans is there—and he’s not lost that much time. There’s a time trial tomorrow and that’s something at which he shines. Valverde, Vandevelde, all the rest: they look like they’re dead and just don’t have time yet to fall over.
Yet seemingly minutes later, they’re sitting at their team busses, chatting with reporters, getting their awards. (Carlos Sastre is zipped into his shiny new maillot jaune on the podium by none other than Michael Douglas.) I keep thinking, well, that’s just TV. But no. Not necessarily. Yes, they’ve just climbed three mountains on their bikes over the course of hours and hours in the sun. For most humans, this would mean a month’s recuperation in a peaceful place with smiling, soothing attendants and no cell phones allowed.
But these guys are going to go back to some random hotels, get massages, get some sleep, and do it all again tomorrow.
Better they than I, bless them.
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no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:26 pm (UTC)"it'llstopmeit'llstopmeit'llstop....ooooooohhhh SHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!"
no subject
Date: 2008-07-24 09:33 pm (UTC)And seriously? It was, pretty much, a mound of earth about a foot and a half high. Yay, French DOT!