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ysobelleStage Eighteen: Gap to Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne, 186.5km
There are happy reasons to leave the Tour. It’s rare, but it happens, like when a rider’s partner is in labour. It happened this week: Greg van Avermaet, who won Stage Thirteen, was a DNS for Stage Sixteen, and good luck to the happy family.
But there are also utterly heartbreaking reasons to leave the Tour, and that’s what happened yesterday. BMC rider Tejay Van Garderen was forced to abandon in the middle of yesterday’s race. He was inconsolable: openly in tears as his team’s staff gathered around him, touching his shoulders, hugging him, and eventually helping him to the team car. He had been battling ill health for a few days, but was in a strong third— third! With a realistic hope for a podium finish in Paris!— before he suddenly seemed to crumble out on the road, falling back, rallying, falling back again, and finally being forced to abandon. I am utterly gutted for him.
As ever, there can be as much joy as agony, and the brilliant end of yesterday’s stage was a bit of a balm. German rider Simon Geschke managed to break away from everyone else, and cross the line all alone. It’s the biggest win in the 29-year-old, lumberjack-bearded rider’s career, and when he was interviewed backstage, post-stage, he started fine, and within seconds of talking about his win, broke down sobbing in joy and disbelief. Beautiful.
Today is our second day in the Alps, and though I’m a bit late to the party yet again, I’m in time to see something that tells me exactly how devoted to the Tour I’ve become: the climb up Lacets de Montvernier. This road is 3km long, and 400m high. In other words, it’s a piece of wet spaghetti, laid down in asphalt against the nearly vertical green face of the mountain. it is SEVENTEEN HAIRPIN SWITCHBACKS, and all I can do is stare at it like it’s David Tennant reclining in my bed with a cup of tea, a pillow, and not a stitch on. (Imagine, for my purposes, he’s not married with several delightful children. Or he’s poly.) I am breathless, staring at it. That may make me a bit of a sadist, but I don’t even care. This is a new road for the Tour (though built around 1928), and I’m hoping we see it many times in the future.
Romain Bardet is all by himself at the front of the race, almost literally: no spectators’ cars are allowed on this part of the route, and there are very, very few people fanatic enough to climb up on foot. Once the road widens and levels a bit, however, with fields on either side, there are the delighted fans to cheer him on. He’s got 41 seconds on everyone else as he crosses the line demarcating the top of the climb.
All of the top-placed men are together in one group, but they are not coexisting peacefully. Nibali is trying to pull away, but Contador and Valverde are right there. Froome is cool and collected behind them, just waiting for the attempt to fail and the group to re-form, as it almost always does. He’ll let everyone else wear themselves out. He’s got his eyes on the main prize, and it’s only a few days away.
Bardet is screaming down the road, so aerodynamic, and leaning so far into the sweeping curves that the motorcycle filming him literally cannot keep up with him. Pierre Roland of Europcar is 42 seconds behind him. The French would LOVE to have a one-two win today. And unless Bardet somehow explodes, or eagles come to pluck him off the road, or there’s a sudden terrorist attack, he’s got the win. Under the 1km kite, and up another small climb, and the AG2R rider breaks into a huge grin. The crowds are pounding rhythmically on the boards that line the finish line barricades, and their fanatical screams are deafening. Bardet looks behind him to see nothing but the official’s car and Tour motorcycles. He zips up his jersey to show his sponsor’s logo, pumps the air, and sits up, holding his head in disbelief. His joy is palpable. He is a quiet, young rider, and this is his first-ever Tour stage win. He is also now tenth overall, and the highest-placed Frenchman. It’s a good day.
Pierre Roland follows him 30 seconds later, and all of France is happy. Movistar’s Winner Anacona is third, and who can beat that name? Jacob Fuglsang comes in fifth*, and that’s a relief, as a camera back on the mountain showed him on the floor out of absolutely nowhere. Interviewed after the line, drinking methodically from a bottle of Pellegrini, the Danish Astana rider is asked what happened. He replies that a camera motorbike took him out from behind, and he had no clue it was coming. “The driver should be glad he’s nowhere near me,” he says. “Are you hurt?” he’s asked. He raises his arm: dried rivers of blood from his elbow down to his wrist. So…that’s a yes, then?
We’re only a few days from Paris, and I honestly think it’s going to take something really major that I won’t want to see to keep Chris Froome off the top step. For that reason alone, I really hope he wins. He and Team Sky have been methodical and tenacious, and by G-d, they’ve earned it on every inch of this road.
So we’re getting close. Very, very close. It’ll all be over on Sunday. I can’t wait.
*Bob Jungels of Trek Factory Racing is fourth, for completion’s sake.
Here, as a visual aid, is Lacets de Montvernier. Isn't it hot?
(Cycling Weekly)
There are happy reasons to leave the Tour. It’s rare, but it happens, like when a rider’s partner is in labour. It happened this week: Greg van Avermaet, who won Stage Thirteen, was a DNS for Stage Sixteen, and good luck to the happy family.
But there are also utterly heartbreaking reasons to leave the Tour, and that’s what happened yesterday. BMC rider Tejay Van Garderen was forced to abandon in the middle of yesterday’s race. He was inconsolable: openly in tears as his team’s staff gathered around him, touching his shoulders, hugging him, and eventually helping him to the team car. He had been battling ill health for a few days, but was in a strong third— third! With a realistic hope for a podium finish in Paris!— before he suddenly seemed to crumble out on the road, falling back, rallying, falling back again, and finally being forced to abandon. I am utterly gutted for him.
As ever, there can be as much joy as agony, and the brilliant end of yesterday’s stage was a bit of a balm. German rider Simon Geschke managed to break away from everyone else, and cross the line all alone. It’s the biggest win in the 29-year-old, lumberjack-bearded rider’s career, and when he was interviewed backstage, post-stage, he started fine, and within seconds of talking about his win, broke down sobbing in joy and disbelief. Beautiful.
Today is our second day in the Alps, and though I’m a bit late to the party yet again, I’m in time to see something that tells me exactly how devoted to the Tour I’ve become: the climb up Lacets de Montvernier. This road is 3km long, and 400m high. In other words, it’s a piece of wet spaghetti, laid down in asphalt against the nearly vertical green face of the mountain. it is SEVENTEEN HAIRPIN SWITCHBACKS, and all I can do is stare at it like it’s David Tennant reclining in my bed with a cup of tea, a pillow, and not a stitch on. (Imagine, for my purposes, he’s not married with several delightful children. Or he’s poly.) I am breathless, staring at it. That may make me a bit of a sadist, but I don’t even care. This is a new road for the Tour (though built around 1928), and I’m hoping we see it many times in the future.
Romain Bardet is all by himself at the front of the race, almost literally: no spectators’ cars are allowed on this part of the route, and there are very, very few people fanatic enough to climb up on foot. Once the road widens and levels a bit, however, with fields on either side, there are the delighted fans to cheer him on. He’s got 41 seconds on everyone else as he crosses the line demarcating the top of the climb.
All of the top-placed men are together in one group, but they are not coexisting peacefully. Nibali is trying to pull away, but Contador and Valverde are right there. Froome is cool and collected behind them, just waiting for the attempt to fail and the group to re-form, as it almost always does. He’ll let everyone else wear themselves out. He’s got his eyes on the main prize, and it’s only a few days away.
Bardet is screaming down the road, so aerodynamic, and leaning so far into the sweeping curves that the motorcycle filming him literally cannot keep up with him. Pierre Roland of Europcar is 42 seconds behind him. The French would LOVE to have a one-two win today. And unless Bardet somehow explodes, or eagles come to pluck him off the road, or there’s a sudden terrorist attack, he’s got the win. Under the 1km kite, and up another small climb, and the AG2R rider breaks into a huge grin. The crowds are pounding rhythmically on the boards that line the finish line barricades, and their fanatical screams are deafening. Bardet looks behind him to see nothing but the official’s car and Tour motorcycles. He zips up his jersey to show his sponsor’s logo, pumps the air, and sits up, holding his head in disbelief. His joy is palpable. He is a quiet, young rider, and this is his first-ever Tour stage win. He is also now tenth overall, and the highest-placed Frenchman. It’s a good day.
Pierre Roland follows him 30 seconds later, and all of France is happy. Movistar’s Winner Anacona is third, and who can beat that name? Jacob Fuglsang comes in fifth*, and that’s a relief, as a camera back on the mountain showed him on the floor out of absolutely nowhere. Interviewed after the line, drinking methodically from a bottle of Pellegrini, the Danish Astana rider is asked what happened. He replies that a camera motorbike took him out from behind, and he had no clue it was coming. “The driver should be glad he’s nowhere near me,” he says. “Are you hurt?” he’s asked. He raises his arm: dried rivers of blood from his elbow down to his wrist. So…that’s a yes, then?
We’re only a few days from Paris, and I honestly think it’s going to take something really major that I won’t want to see to keep Chris Froome off the top step. For that reason alone, I really hope he wins. He and Team Sky have been methodical and tenacious, and by G-d, they’ve earned it on every inch of this road.
So we’re getting close. Very, very close. It’ll all be over on Sunday. I can’t wait.
*Bob Jungels of Trek Factory Racing is fourth, for completion’s sake.
Here, as a visual aid, is Lacets de Montvernier. Isn't it hot?
(Cycling Weekly)