Stage Eighteen

I was woken this morning at 6:45 by the sound of scraping metal.  It came as a surprise as I was down a dirt road in a forest that didn’t appear to have had any traffic in a while. When I left the forest I discovered what caused the noise. A metal barrier had been dropped off to block this negligible side road for the stage the next day.  For the next ten miles through the forest every little road and trail, despite their rarity of use, had such a blockade, safeguarding any errant vehicle from trespassing on the course.

 Such is the efficiency and attentiveness of The Tour.  When voices cry out at the dangerousness of certain sections of the road, they come from the uninformed and those prone to criticism. Dozens of well-trained eyes examine every inch of the road and know what the riders can manage.  Whenever The Race ventures onto cobbles, there are howls of protest.  Froome crashed out one year on them.  Yet the cobbles of Paris-Roubaix and Flanders are among the most popular races of the year.  

Every ninety degree turn on the course poses a potential disaster, but the riders generally navigate them without fail.  The inattentiveness of any rider at any time can cause an accident.  Luke Rowe in his podcast with Geraint Thomas said that even if The Tour rode nothing but six-lane highways, there’d be accidents.  Evidently Roglic’s fall on a narrow road came from Cabrelli giving him a shove, because he didn’t like his proximity.  Riders learn who the sketchy bike-handlers are and avoid them or shame them into riding at the back.  

The peloton will have easy going tomorrow for long stretches of straight and flat roads, largely through pine forests. It was nearly flat for the first fifty miles of my day’s ride of the second half of the Stage Nineteen route, which passes just to the east of Bordeaux before the stage finish in Libourne.  The final three miles of the stage were on a wide autoroute that didn’t allow bicycles.  I had to wind around the twisting Dordogne River to find a bridge that allowed bicycles, adding an extra five miles to my ride.  I had hoped to be in front of a tv by 3:30 to see all the action on the Tourmalet, but those extra miles meant the breakaway riders were just creating the summit when I finally found a bar with a television.

I hadn’t missed anything dramatic other than Uran falling behind, all hopes of a podium place gone as he lost another nine minutes and fell to tenth.  Top ten is still noteworthy, but not when he had clung to second for several stages.

Pogacar delayed his attack until two miles to the summit of the final climb to Luz Ardidan, three miles later than yesterday.  But it ended with the same result, a win of the stage with Vingegaard and Carapaz just behind him.  And there’s your podium, all settled with three stages to go. Vingegaard is a better time trialist than Carapaz so won’t be overtaken.  He is the revelation of The Tour, coming in second in his first Tour when he was only expected to be a domestique to Roglic.  He was under everyone’s radar, unlike Pogacar last year, who all knew was a threat.

Taking the final climb also earned Pogacar the climber’s jersey for the second year in a row.  This was his third stage win this year, giving him six for his career.  He’ll most likely win Saturday’s time trial.  He’s closing in on the record of 34 jointly held by Cavendish and Merckx, though Cavendish will most likely pad it tomorrow and Sunday.

My Tour is effectively over too.  I’ll ride the nineteen mile time trial tomorrow then spend the afternoon by the Giant Screen at the finish line on the outskirts of Libourne.  Saturday I’ll hang around for the time trail, which starts by a park in the city center, until my 4:45 train to Paris.  I’m camped right along the time trial course in a vineyard, which dominate the landscape and the time trial  course.

The view out my tent is unlike any other I’ve had this trip.