The side-questrian: swings and roundabouts
One stage at a time, in triptychs
It hit me somewhere between the Aspin and the Tourmalet today, that if I’m planning on staying on top of writing about this Tour de France and not drowning in days-old details that don’t make sense anymore, that I need to adopt a more day by day approach, much like my username, or the riders themselves who so often assert as much in vague post-race interviews. I don’t remember the last time I heard a rider say ‘we’re taking it three days at time.’
It’s a million degrees everywhere in Europe and while here in the north-east of England, it’s less extreme than elsewhere, I’m still fatigued by it. And I’m just sitting behind a desk. The canicule [heatwave] persists in France, with plenty more searing temperatures in store, and is clearly taking its toll on riders, and will continue to do so even if the temperatures drop, as recovery from the heat will take time and that’s one thing these athletes don’t have. And nor do I, so there’s not much point complaining about it - let’s try and remember what happened three days ago, shall we?
Stage 4 – The Great Dane
After two days of utter domination from UAE Team Emirates, the big question ahead of stage 4, with Tadej Pogačar already resplendent in yellow, was could they restrain themselves from striking yet another blow to the heart of the rest of the hopefuls within the bunch? The stage profile was perfect for a breakaway, and a huge number of riders were up for the challenge. After a few efforts to establish something, a massive 40-strong crowd of riders were waved off up the road as the peloton put on the brakes.
This was a big, big group. Strength in number perhaps? But was it too grea a threat to the status quo? There was plenty of radio communication from Nils Politt who took up his familiar position at the head of the bunch and we waited to see how much rope the group would be given, as presumably sports directors did frantic checks to see exactly who they’d let go.
And there was some real quality in the front group. Michael Matthews, Romain Grégoire, Mathias Vacek, Kévin Vauquelin. Plenty of teams with more than one representative. The gap settled at 3:30. Too low to guarantee anything, but higher than we’d seen at any point since the start of the race.
The sprinters were along for the ride, and at the intermediate sprint there was further success for Biniam, who took another small victory over Philipsen and Pedersen, and the Eritrean slid back to the bunch with the Dutchman in tow, while the irrespressible Dane took on his next challenge: breaking away. The gap was out to over 4:30 as the first of the day’s two category 2 climbs began, and Michael Matthews was looking hungry, leading the charge onto the lower slopes.
It was hot. So, so hot. Kévin Vauquelin gave the camera a shower with his bidon, while the crowds in Foix were rained on by local fire crews. The pair of Jan Tratnik and Mathias Vacek moved clear on the next climb and they became a trio when Alex Kirsch joined them. It wasn’t a harmonious working relationship however, Mathias Vacek testing the patience of his two companions, an anchor at the back claiming he had Pedersen in the group behind so couldn’t ride. His presence in the group was part of Lidl-Trek’s master plan; with Pedersen and Quinn Simmons in the group behind, they had all the cards to play.
The strength in the second group overpowered the leaders with 40 kilometres to go, and from there Lidl-Trek put the next phase of their plan into action. With the peloton decreeing they were out of the game a while earlier, all they had to do was to deliver Mads Pedersen to the finish line, which they duly did. From there, with no other riders within the group who could even hope to match his flat speed, Pedersen sprinted unchallenged to claim the stage.
His ability over all kinds of terrain makes the fearless Dane a force to be reckoned with on days like this - a true tough guy of the sport, combining resilience, power and speed with a rare ability to endure the kinds of gradients that would have most of his green jersey rivals dropping like stones.
Not only was it a popular victory, it won Pedersen the green jersey - for now at least - and with a massive 13 minute gap to the bunch, the yellow jersey would be loaned out. The recipient none other than Uno-X Mobility’s Torstein Træen; a rider who has already been in this exact situation, at last year’s Vuelta. With a lead of 7:53 over the rest, the day reshaped the GC temporarily into something that looked as if it could be a lot more interesting. And allowed the Norwegian his moment in the spotlight - a moment which his roommate, Anders Johannessen, took full advantage of…
Stage 5 – Anything but flat
Ah, the sweet release of a flat stage, a balm on the fractious mind, ever tormented by the tantalising hope of some other outcome on the GC. Isn’t it just what we all needed?
The altered perspective on the first sprint stage, having been withheld from us for what felt like forever in Grand Tour terms, was so refreshing. Settling in for a day where I could have the race on in the background without needing to actually pay attention to what was going on. A day when we were treated to copious shots of the fans and their excellent signs and hilarious escapades. A slow, languorous day, the likes of which everyone complained about last year when they had the audacity to fall on a weekend, and which no-one cares to pay much attention to when they comprise two-thirds of the opening three stages, was just the tonic.
Of course it was a slow start, and of course there was very little interest in being part of the day’s early break. So little interest in fact that one man found himself out front alone – who was that one man, I hear you cry? It was my pre-race tip for breakaway shenanigans no less, French baroudeur Baptiste Veistroffer!
As Christian Prudhomme pressed the flesh with French rugby legend Antoine Dupont at the roadside, Veistroffer expressed his mild displeasure at being given such a measly time gap by the bunch given he was a lone leader. Nevertheless, he still says ‘yes please’ when he’s offered ice. My heart melts instantly. Such a nice, polite boy. Manners cost nothing, y’know? He ended up having a great day despite the solitude – no less than 144 kilometres spent labouring alone, and yet he claimed it was what he dreamed of as a kid. Of course, he took away the combativity prize for his troubles, and his Lotto-Intermarché bosses and sponsors would have been delighted.
As is so often the way with these stages, it was a whole lot of nothing much and then everything happened at once. There was a late, fruitless attack from a trio of riders, before the bunch finally caught everyone with just under 15km to go. There was an even later crash, which strung out the bunch and caused Tim Merlier to lose touch with his lead-out riders. And there was a long-awaited bunch sprint. While the bunch in question was really rather small as a result of the crash, pretty much all of the big names were up there, and it was a maiden victory for Olav Kooij. Riding on debut, and taking his first tilt at a sprint, to take victory was a huge deal for the young Dutchman who was finally able to justify the price tag Decathlon paid for him, lifting his team in the process.
It was a victory enjoyed by a broad section of cycling fans, with Visma-Lease a Bike providing a classy response, congratulating the first rider from their development squad set-up to go on to win a stage of the Tour de France. For Decathlon, the intense spotlight cast on Paul Seixas would only relent for 24 hours, but it would be a welcome relief, as the youngest debutant could enjoy the celebrations of his older teammate. It was a reminder that for Decathlon, the original plan was to go for green with Kooij, with Seixas only an option on the table. Now those tables have turned, and with the Tourmalet beckoning the following day, Kooij’s moment of glory would hopefully inspire the team as they headed for the Pyrenees.
Meanwhile, in further ‘Torstein Træen is having the best time’ news, this.
Stage 6 – Poetry and pain
The lone Pyrenean stage began falteringly, with a break that wasn’t really a break, Victor Campanaerts gamely attempting to play the satellite rider game but finding no-one would take the bait and join him, other than Mads Pedersen who was there with singular purpose: to take the intermediate sprint points and bolster his green jersey tally.
A second rush saw Remco Evenepoel caught out following a poorly timed nature break, Tadej Pogačar forced to work for himself, and Visma-Lease a Bike up to their old tricks, in amongst it and trying to cause some hijinks, looking to rattle the cage of their arch rival.
Side-quest of the day: the prize for best nominative determinism goes to Max Kanter, who won the intermediate sprint from the bunch at a… er… trot. (I’m here all week).
A new wave of attacks followed causing splits in the bunch, Visma aggressive, feisty, pushing the pace and the peloton snaking out along the road. Ben O’Connor’s solo attack stuck but he was only given a minute and by the time all that was resolved, the day’s major climbs were approaching and UAE exerted their characteristic stranglehold beginning with the white-teethed nightmare Nils Politt charging forth like a proper sadist.
There was a flurry of excitement at the summit of the Col d’Aspin, a double attack of diminutive French climbers as first Valentin Paret-Peintre, then Lenny Martinez engaged in a full-on sprint for the KOM, with Martinez narrowly snatching the victory on the line.
Onto the Tourmalet. UAE’s pace was infernal, unforgiving, and while they stood strong with numbers at the front, support riders for every other team were dropping like flies. With 10.6km of climbing still to endure on one of the Tour’s most iconic peaks, Træen lost touch with the group, and his day would only get worse from there.
The group had been whittled down to just 16 riders with 7km still to go on the Tourmalet. UAE still had four riders; Paul Seixas was alone. Yet as Del Toro kicked away, Pogačar in his wheel, and the pair detonated the GC group as they emerged from a tunnel built into the mountainside, Seixas was one of the few who followed close behind. It was Jonas Vingegaard who settled into his customary position chasing the Slovenian, while Del Toro, Lipowitz and Seixas joined up behind. My heart may have sunk at the crushing inevitability of the unfolding outcome, but it also lifted at the mettle shown by the 19-year-old. The scales will tip, in a year, or three, or even five. They will tip, and that moment of balance as they swing, will be tantalising. For now, we wait.
As for Pogačar, he cruises up the remainder of the climb. Relentless, ruthless, a demolition. Dismantling all resistance. The perfect entanglement of man and machine defying the laws of physics. A honed athlete. A clinical executioner. A fluid description of ascension over all others rendered in sweat-soaked white and rainbow stripes. A realisation of sporting perfection. The only man who evokes this combination of emotion – frustration, admiration, incredulity – and impassionate indifference, in me, and yet, forces me to seek out new words and ways of putting them together, to try and capture his singular brilliance. The undisputed king.
As always, I made notes on the details of the stage as they unfolded, including the names of the chase group that coalesced in the wake of the two greatest cyclists of their generation, in the hope that one of them might be the one to claim the final podium spot; the fractious moods of Remco Evenepoel, the gung-ho contributions of Paul Seixas, the wily avoidance of Lidl-Trek to do their perceived fair share, and the dogged resistance of Lenny Martinez, the other lone Frenchman. And the strong ride of Egan Bernal, finishing two minutes after, riding alone, ahead of the rest of the GC hopefuls. The pain of Torstein Træen, already distanced by a gobsmacking 15 minutes, later finding out he had broken four ribs in a crash and finished 22 minutes down on GC, a remarkable swing of almost half an hour from the beginning of the day as he finished over 10 kilometres behind Pog, his 48 hour dream well and truly over. It doesn’t really warrant a blow-by-blow recount; rather a sombre reflection on the eye-watering standards that the world’s best has ascended to, an echo of Tignes in 2021, when Pogačar made it clear there would be only one. That was stage 9, though. And even that felt painfully early to call time on the race. Five years on, we are inured to it.
My final, brief conclusions from the day are as follows: Jonas Vingegaard is an exceptional bike rider. Tadej Pogačar is a devastatingly exceptional bike rider. Paul Seixas is going to be an exceptional bike rider. And the Tour de France is over, as a contest.
Great review of the past few days. I appreciate your paragraph about Tadej, well said. Must disagree with your last sentence. Too many miles and too many challenges to think the race is over.