Stage Sixteen TT

 

The taciturn Dane put to rest today all the favor accorded the happy-go-lucky Slovenian for being the favorite due to his stronger personality, as he delivered a crushing blow in the fourteen-mile uphill time trial nearly catching Pogaçar who had set out two minutes before him, just as Pogaçar was catching his two-minute man Rodriquez. 

Vinegegaard’s ten second lead going into the stage is now a healthy one minute and forty-eight seconds.  It’s not likely Pogaçar can overcome that in the two mountain stages remaining of the five left.  Vingegaard will have to remain vigilant, but he has proven that Pogaçar can’t distance him by much.  And now the bonus seconds become inconsequential.

The battle for third is far from over though, as Adam Yates slipped past Rodriquez to take possession of it by five seconds, with Hindley over a minute back.  And for the French there is a third big battle going on for the top Frenchman.  Going into the stage Gullaume Martin of Cofidis was ninth overall just ahead of David Gaudu of FDJ.  Gaudu had  the better time trial and moved ahead and into ninth overall while Martin fell to eleventh.

I had a television all to myself in a small bar/cafe in Moirans-en-Montagne, the Ville Départ for Stage Nineteen.  It was a grueling forty-mile ride through the quite lumpy Juras from Bourg-en-Besse the Ville Arrivée for Stage Eighteen to get there.  A long steep climb that wouldn’t end had me concerned I wouldn’t make it in time for Pogaçar’s and Vingegaard’s departures at 4:58 and 5:00, the last two of the 156 remaining riders.  Twenty have dropped out, seven on Stage Fourteen after a massive crash.  The latest to abandon was Matteo Jorgenson, the American who came within three hundred meters of winning the Puy de Dome stage.  He didn’t start today due to a strained thigh.  He’s the second of the six Americans in the race to depart, the other Quinn Simmons.

I made it to a television with time to spare, partially thanks to a mile descent after all the climbing, at the third bar I stopped at, getting to see Van Aert complete his ride and take over the hot seat reserved for the rider with the best time.  Pogaçar and Vingegaard were the only ones to beat him.  He tipped his cap to the camera with a smile when he rose from the seat knowing his teammate had won the stage.  Moments later he gave him a hearty hug.  It was the first emotion Vingegaard displayed, as he was so spent he couldn’t even contort his face into a smile or give a fist pump of delight after his Herculean effort, as he merely poured water down his throat for a minute or more after completing his ride.  Van Aert gave a similar display of inert exhaustion after his thirty-four minutes of all-out effort, collapsing on the road, giving no hint that he’d just had the best time.

The large city of Bourg-en-Besse gave no evidence that The Tour was coming to town in two days other than signs on its outskirts warning that “circulation” would be ‘difficile” on July 20.  Not even the finish at a monastery near the center of the city had any markings that the stage would be ending there.

The much smaller city of Moirans-en-Montagne in the Juras had Tour decorations aplenty across streets and on the city hall and in roundabouts and in store windows.  All the stray bikes in town had been rounded up and stacked into pyramids.  One round-about had three stacks and a small park another.  

Since I’m well ahead of the peloton I could stop at the first secluded meadow I came to outside of town after watching the stage and give my legs a couple extra hours of rest before resuming their efforts in this up and down terrain.  The day before on the Stage Eighteen route I passed through four tunnels, including one a mile long that was so frigid I feared what water there was might be glazed.  It was a tight tunnel just for bicyclists and pedestrians, quite an expenditure.  The peloton will be going through the much larger adjoining tunnel for motorized vehicles.

Later in the day a voice from behind me called out “It’s George from Chicago.”  The bikepacker from Boulder was three days ahead of the peloton too.  We were on a flat stretch so he slowed for a short chat.  He too said he too had tired legs, but was still going strong.  For the first time on this trip he ran out of water on a climb yesterday, exhausting his lone water bottle and camelpack on his back.  He’s only seen the caravan and peloton once, at the foot of the Puy de Dome.  

I asked if he’d been inspired by Lachlan Morton’s Tour ride two years ago similar to what he’s doing.  Not really, as he’d been considering it for awhile and thought he better do it now since he’s not getting any younger.  He doesn’t have a method to charge his phone, other than at outlets when he stops, which works just fine as he says he can’t ride all the time, though that might be his impulse.  His most appropriate handle at instagram is “binge cyclist/KarolKristov.”  I’m not on instagram so haven’t had a chance to see what he’s been posting, though I am eager to. 

With the weather hot again, it’s a dilemma when I stop for the day of what constricting garment to shed first when I retreat to my tent.  I’ve already rid myself of my helmet,  but what next—gloves, shoes and socks, watch or shirt. I’ve finally resolved the quandary by detaching my watch right after I’ve taken off my helmet and dangled it on a brake lever, as my watch officially resides in my helmet when in the tent.  With my watch off it’s natural to strip off my gloves and add them to the helmet before I start detaching panniers and setting up the tent.  And if there seem to be no bugs I’ll slip out of my shirt as well to assist my cool down.  That just leaves shoes and socks when I enter the tent and I’m spared any hesitation of what to rid myself of with everything else shed.  Then I can get to eating, most important of all.