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ysobelleStage Nineteen: Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne to La Toussuire-Les Sybelles, 138km
Today finds us— or rather, them— tackling the longest climb of this year’s Tour de France. And it’s not even their first climb. Immediately upon departing this morning, the riders start the slog up Col du Chaussy. The peloton separates several times over, but hey, that’s a mountain stage for you. The day starts sunny and blistering hot, but soon enough, the guys ride into a light rain, followed by clouds.
The group of Tour leaders is all together on the endless ascent of Col de la Croix-de-Fer— a Hors Categorie, 22.4km climb at a 6.9% gradient— as usual, when suddenly, Chris Froome starts looking down at his wheel. He’s obviously got a mechanical. Sure enough, he pulls over to the left, to step off the bike and fix whatever’s wrong. But as he’s moving over, Vincenzo Nibali looks over his shoulder. Once. Twice. And then he launches an attack, and he’s gone.
That was an asshole move.
See, here’s the thing. Cycling has a history, and a code. There are rules, and there are codes. One of the biggest is that you don’t attack when the Yellow Jersey or the peloton as a whole has a problem that’s beyond their control. Not when there’s a stretch of open road, sparsely spectator’d, when many riders will take what is euphemistically called “a natural break.” (Also by gentleman’s agreement, the helicopters and ground cameras will never show this.) You don’t attack in a feed zone. And you don’t attack when the Tour leader has a mechanical. Nibali is far enough down right now that he has very little chance of overtaking Froome in the GC. But that’s not the point. It’s barbaric. Am I a snob? Sure. Whatever.
Anyway. Pierre Rolland is out front by several minutes, and as he screams around the hairpins of the descent of Col de la Croix-de-Fer, it’s both a thing of beauty and a thing of abject terror. He’s tucked into that aerodynamic position that has him down off the seat, then he’s leaning unto curves with one knee all the way out— he’s all over the bike. But for all that, Nibali is gaining on him. Rolland has about two minutes on the Yellow Jersey, and it looks like Nibali will soon join him.
The arguments amongst the commentators— Chris Vandevelde, Phil Ligett, Bobke, and Jens Voight— are fierce about the sportsmanship of Nibali. Chris thinks it’s a smart move, Jens isn’t having any of it. Phil just seems pleased there’s a debate about it, but he’s a man with a healthy respect for tradition.
Froome’s group is coming down the mountain now, and there’s a shot of the man himself having what looks like some pretty stiff words for Alejandro Valverde, who joined Nibali on the attack, but was subsequently caught. I really, really do NOT want to know what’s being said. Neither man looks happy.
Pierre Rolland makes it over the top of the third climb, Col du Mallard, bare seconds before Nibali. Two minutes later, Roman Bardet, yesterday’s stage winner, breaks free from the Yellow Jersey group to claim the third spot, and grab the King of the Mountains jersey into the bargain. I am enormously pleased, as the riders make their way through yet another gorgeous little French village, to see Didi Senft, the Devil of the Alps, there on the side of the road, looking like a particularly demented Santa. I used to think the guy was just another nut dressing up and being a clown on the side of the road. Well, now I KNOW he’s a nut, but man, I’m glad to see him every year. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Didi_Senft)
Back to the action: Rolland and Nibali are working together now, and Roman Bardet is trying to catch them. Unfortunately, he’s having some kind of trouble with his bike. But this is a descent, and it’s dangerous for everyone. His team car is having a hell of a time getting through the stretched, speeding race to get to him for help. Thankfully, they manage it in the end, though as we see a flashback of Bardet getting his new bike from the car, the commentators are talking about Alberto Contador getting a new bike. I’m baffled for a second, until the camera switches to Contador being launched up the road by his mechanic. It’s theorized that this was planned move, to give him a lighter bike as the main contenders begin the fourth climb of the day: La Toussuire. It’s only a Cat 1 climb, but it’s the bloody FOURTH.
Oh! Rolland has bonked! It’s a horrible thing to see: he’s gone from easily pacing Nibali to watching the Italian disappear into the distance, while he himself looks like he’s cycling through a tank of Jell-o. Ouf. Well, the GC leaders groups two minutes back: maybe being with them will carry him.
Nibali’s lead is up to 2.22, and he’s moved himself from an eight-minute deficit to third place in the GC. This is why I never take anything for granted before the mountains.
Rolland is still away, but only barely. His face looks relaxed now, and it’s obvious he’s accepted the inevitable. It’s also looking like no one is going to be able to catch Nibali before the end. The Comment Crew has gone from discussing his unsportsmanlike behaviour to waxing rhapsodic over his strength and tenacity. I guess I just hold grudges longer. Though yes, I do have to admit I feel no small measure of respect for a guy who wants to show the world why he’s wearing a number 1 on his back.
The GC group has hit a small almost-plateau at about 4,000 feet before the rest of the steep climb to the finish line. Though it’s still uphill, these guys are speeding as if it were a flat.
The climb begins again for the GC group, and Froome has lost his last lieutenant on the road. But then, all of a sudden, Nairo Quintana, who said he’d make his move on the last climb, does it. Contador starts the chase, but Froome moves, too. It’s too much for Contador and Valverde— they crack, leaving Froome alone to chase the young Colombian. Froome knows damned well he can’t let Quintana get away. A few seconds ahead won’t change any standings, but this is the Tour, and you don’t get careless.
Nibali crosses under the 4km-to-the-end banner, and he’s all by himself. Quintana knows he’s there, and is determined to get as close as possible. He’s only 1.20 back, with Froome fifteen seconds behind him. Froome’s shoulders are moving back and forth. he’s up out of the saddle— his usual calm complacency is nowhere to be seen right now. He won’t give up anything. Not a shred.
Nibali is under the red kite now, going, going, into the final turns, going, going, the crowd going crazy and pounding on the barrier boards. Nibali has his silver cross in his teeth— and then he sits up, arms out, roaring, and crossing the line alone.
44 seconds later, it’s Quintana. And then Froome is there, alone, absolutely burning to keep the damage to a minimum, and show the world the stern stuff of which he’s made.
Valverde, Thibaud Pinot, Contador, Roman Bardet— a group of seven, and then, behind them, an exhausted Pierre Rolland.
So here we are, now. Froome has a lead of 2.38, and I’m thinking, with as strong as he’s still looking, he’s probably going to be fine. His wingman Geraint Thomas? Well, today was not his day, and tomorrow won’t be, either. “Sometimes you’re the hammer, sometimes you’re the nail,” he said of his day running on empty. “Today I was just a cheap little IKEA nail.”
Tomorrow…man, if he doesn’t manage to fully recover overnight, he's not even going to be a thumbtack. Why? Because tomorrow, the main attraction is one of the most legendary climbs in all of cycling: l’Alpe d’Huez. What’s that, you say? Well, as Wikipedia tells us: “The climb to the summit starts at Le Bourg d'Oisans in the Romanche valley. The climb goes via the D211 from where the distance to the summit (at 1,860 m (6,102 ft)) is 13.8 km (8.6 mi), with an average gradient of 8.1%, with 21 hairpin bends and a maximum gradient of 13%.”
It is a monster, and I cannot wait.
Today finds us— or rather, them— tackling the longest climb of this year’s Tour de France. And it’s not even their first climb. Immediately upon departing this morning, the riders start the slog up Col du Chaussy. The peloton separates several times over, but hey, that’s a mountain stage for you. The day starts sunny and blistering hot, but soon enough, the guys ride into a light rain, followed by clouds.
The group of Tour leaders is all together on the endless ascent of Col de la Croix-de-Fer— a Hors Categorie, 22.4km climb at a 6.9% gradient— as usual, when suddenly, Chris Froome starts looking down at his wheel. He’s obviously got a mechanical. Sure enough, he pulls over to the left, to step off the bike and fix whatever’s wrong. But as he’s moving over, Vincenzo Nibali looks over his shoulder. Once. Twice. And then he launches an attack, and he’s gone.
That was an asshole move.
See, here’s the thing. Cycling has a history, and a code. There are rules, and there are codes. One of the biggest is that you don’t attack when the Yellow Jersey or the peloton as a whole has a problem that’s beyond their control. Not when there’s a stretch of open road, sparsely spectator’d, when many riders will take what is euphemistically called “a natural break.” (Also by gentleman’s agreement, the helicopters and ground cameras will never show this.) You don’t attack in a feed zone. And you don’t attack when the Tour leader has a mechanical. Nibali is far enough down right now that he has very little chance of overtaking Froome in the GC. But that’s not the point. It’s barbaric. Am I a snob? Sure. Whatever.
Anyway. Pierre Rolland is out front by several minutes, and as he screams around the hairpins of the descent of Col de la Croix-de-Fer, it’s both a thing of beauty and a thing of abject terror. He’s tucked into that aerodynamic position that has him down off the seat, then he’s leaning unto curves with one knee all the way out— he’s all over the bike. But for all that, Nibali is gaining on him. Rolland has about two minutes on the Yellow Jersey, and it looks like Nibali will soon join him.
The arguments amongst the commentators— Chris Vandevelde, Phil Ligett, Bobke, and Jens Voight— are fierce about the sportsmanship of Nibali. Chris thinks it’s a smart move, Jens isn’t having any of it. Phil just seems pleased there’s a debate about it, but he’s a man with a healthy respect for tradition.
Froome’s group is coming down the mountain now, and there’s a shot of the man himself having what looks like some pretty stiff words for Alejandro Valverde, who joined Nibali on the attack, but was subsequently caught. I really, really do NOT want to know what’s being said. Neither man looks happy.
Pierre Rolland makes it over the top of the third climb, Col du Mallard, bare seconds before Nibali. Two minutes later, Roman Bardet, yesterday’s stage winner, breaks free from the Yellow Jersey group to claim the third spot, and grab the King of the Mountains jersey into the bargain. I am enormously pleased, as the riders make their way through yet another gorgeous little French village, to see Didi Senft, the Devil of the Alps, there on the side of the road, looking like a particularly demented Santa. I used to think the guy was just another nut dressing up and being a clown on the side of the road. Well, now I KNOW he’s a nut, but man, I’m glad to see him every year. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Didi_Senft)
Back to the action: Rolland and Nibali are working together now, and Roman Bardet is trying to catch them. Unfortunately, he’s having some kind of trouble with his bike. But this is a descent, and it’s dangerous for everyone. His team car is having a hell of a time getting through the stretched, speeding race to get to him for help. Thankfully, they manage it in the end, though as we see a flashback of Bardet getting his new bike from the car, the commentators are talking about Alberto Contador getting a new bike. I’m baffled for a second, until the camera switches to Contador being launched up the road by his mechanic. It’s theorized that this was planned move, to give him a lighter bike as the main contenders begin the fourth climb of the day: La Toussuire. It’s only a Cat 1 climb, but it’s the bloody FOURTH.
Oh! Rolland has bonked! It’s a horrible thing to see: he’s gone from easily pacing Nibali to watching the Italian disappear into the distance, while he himself looks like he’s cycling through a tank of Jell-o. Ouf. Well, the GC leaders groups two minutes back: maybe being with them will carry him.
Nibali’s lead is up to 2.22, and he’s moved himself from an eight-minute deficit to third place in the GC. This is why I never take anything for granted before the mountains.
Rolland is still away, but only barely. His face looks relaxed now, and it’s obvious he’s accepted the inevitable. It’s also looking like no one is going to be able to catch Nibali before the end. The Comment Crew has gone from discussing his unsportsmanlike behaviour to waxing rhapsodic over his strength and tenacity. I guess I just hold grudges longer. Though yes, I do have to admit I feel no small measure of respect for a guy who wants to show the world why he’s wearing a number 1 on his back.
The GC group has hit a small almost-plateau at about 4,000 feet before the rest of the steep climb to the finish line. Though it’s still uphill, these guys are speeding as if it were a flat.
The climb begins again for the GC group, and Froome has lost his last lieutenant on the road. But then, all of a sudden, Nairo Quintana, who said he’d make his move on the last climb, does it. Contador starts the chase, but Froome moves, too. It’s too much for Contador and Valverde— they crack, leaving Froome alone to chase the young Colombian. Froome knows damned well he can’t let Quintana get away. A few seconds ahead won’t change any standings, but this is the Tour, and you don’t get careless.
Nibali crosses under the 4km-to-the-end banner, and he’s all by himself. Quintana knows he’s there, and is determined to get as close as possible. He’s only 1.20 back, with Froome fifteen seconds behind him. Froome’s shoulders are moving back and forth. he’s up out of the saddle— his usual calm complacency is nowhere to be seen right now. He won’t give up anything. Not a shred.
Nibali is under the red kite now, going, going, into the final turns, going, going, the crowd going crazy and pounding on the barrier boards. Nibali has his silver cross in his teeth— and then he sits up, arms out, roaring, and crossing the line alone.
44 seconds later, it’s Quintana. And then Froome is there, alone, absolutely burning to keep the damage to a minimum, and show the world the stern stuff of which he’s made.
Valverde, Thibaud Pinot, Contador, Roman Bardet— a group of seven, and then, behind them, an exhausted Pierre Rolland.
So here we are, now. Froome has a lead of 2.38, and I’m thinking, with as strong as he’s still looking, he’s probably going to be fine. His wingman Geraint Thomas? Well, today was not his day, and tomorrow won’t be, either. “Sometimes you’re the hammer, sometimes you’re the nail,” he said of his day running on empty. “Today I was just a cheap little IKEA nail.”
Tomorrow…man, if he doesn’t manage to fully recover overnight, he's not even going to be a thumbtack. Why? Because tomorrow, the main attraction is one of the most legendary climbs in all of cycling: l’Alpe d’Huez. What’s that, you say? Well, as Wikipedia tells us: “The climb to the summit starts at Le Bourg d'Oisans in the Romanche valley. The climb goes via the D211 from where the distance to the summit (at 1,860 m (6,102 ft)) is 13.8 km (8.6 mi), with an average gradient of 8.1%, with 21 hairpin bends and a maximum gradient of 13%.”
It is a monster, and I cannot wait.