Le Tour Dispatch: Stage 19

Not all days that end up in the history books begin with a bang.

Sure, the pace was relentless at the beginning of the day, with the usual attacking to try and make the breakaway, and a particularly desperate throwing of EVERYTHING at the chase by EF (for reasons which would become clear later), but we proceeded quickly onto the first hors categorie climb of the day, the Col de Vars, and inevitably, the pace was forced to slow.

It enabled those who still wanted a part of the break – Richard Carapaz and Simon Yates, to name two usual suspects – to make it across, while others in the original group, which was far too large for its own good anyway, were immediately dropped, and probably wondered what they were doing with their lives as they drifted back just as quickly to the bunch.

It was a bunch that was quickly brought to order by the combined forces of UAE Team Emirates, whose ‘attack is the best form of defence’ approach to the race was momentarily put on hold as they pulled up the first climb at a relatively relaxed tempo. This despite the fact that Visma-Lease A Bike clearly had a Plan. And the Plan, at that point, looked to have paid off – two of the team’s strongest climbers, Matteo Jorgenson and Wilco Kelderman, planted in the breakaway group and in fact, driving that breakaway group away from the bunch at a rate of knots, at the expensive of other members of their team – namely Christophe Laporte, who had himself been one of the early instigators of the Visma-led breakaway charge, and Wout van Aert, who presumably has half an eye on the Olympics, now that his job is largely complete.

The race settled into a rhythm as the climb progressed, and on the other side of it a long descent, before the riders set off up the Cime de la Bonette – the highest point in the Tour, and featuring on the race route for just the 5^th time. It was a long, arduous ascent and would take the riders up to 2,800m above sea level, adding altitude to accumulated fatigue and heat as yet another external factor to challenge them.

Visma’s aggressive race plan looked to be working out, with Jorgenson looking solid on the climb and happy to lead the charge, but the expected attack from Jonas Vingegaard did not come and Pogacar looked happy to stay sitting comfortably on the UAE mountain train, amazingly still being towed by the immense engine of Nils Politt, who logged an absolutely monster ride, dropping climbers in his wake all down the slopes of the Bonette as the GC group was winnowed into a smaller and smaller selection.

And so after all the hype, there was action on the grandest climb of the Tour – aside from the lead group being whittled down to just six riders – Jorgenson and Kelderman, Carapaz and Simon Yates, Jai Hindley and Cristian Rodriguez of Arkéa-B&B Hotels. Oh, and the small matter of Carapaz riding his heart out to take the lead in the KOM competition, topping out on both the HC climbs to add a massive 60-point haul to his total.

It would all come down to the Isola 2000 – that was after in excess of 40km of descending, which thankfully was completed without incident. Guillaume Martin in particular descended like a demon to bridge back to the GC group just in time for the final climb.

And so it began. 16.1km that would decide the stage, and perhaps the race.

The first man to drop from the breakaway group was Rodriguez – chapeau to him for an epic day in the saddle riding with some legends of the sport.

Jorgenson attacked first, and he was away and gone – meanwhile Adam Yates took the reins for Pogi and began to shell GC guys out one by one with a brutal tempo. The first significant name to drop was INEOS Grenadiers’ Carlos Rodriguez, while Santiago Buitrago held on a bit longer and finally Derek Gee, the best of the rest – a truly outstanding performance from the Canadian who has rather uncharacteristically been saving his matches and sitting in the GC group throughout this Tour and is busy putting together an extremely creditable performance for himself and his team.

With Hindley dropped from the lead group, Richard Carapaz was the next rider to make a move, setting off in search of Jorgenson. Simon Yates paced himself, steadily working his way across to the Ecuadorian, and the pair seem destined to be locked in battle with one another at this Tour – two former Grand Tour winners, let loose as breakaway riders in a race where the GC is on a completely different level.

Of course, the attack from Tadej Pogačar came, and with his two closest rivals unable to follow, the Slovenian set off on a quest to deliver one of the most devastating climbing performances ever witnessed at the Tour.

Jorgenson was managing to hold off Yates and Carapaz, but with Tadej Pogačar eating into the gap like a bright yellow turbo Pacman, it was academic. He put time in Jorgenson in front of him and Vingegaard and Evenepoel behind him, making huge gains on GC as he stormed up the climb in search of a fourth stage victory.

It was always going to end that way, but the heartbreak was palpable for the two Visma-Lease A Bike men, Vingegaard flopping over his handlebars and sobbing, as Jorgenson reassured him ‘you did your best, that’s all that matters’ with such touching positivity, having just seen his own dreams of a stage win go up in smoke for the second year running after he missed out on Puy de Dome in 2023.

In the end, Vingegaard and Evenepoel could not be separated, and it's hard to know whether this speaks more to Vingegaard's lack of physical readiness for the race, or Evenepoel's marked improvement, but either way, they were equals today.

Pogačar on the other hand, was simply unstoppable, on another level, and is busy defining a generation in the sport. Is he one of the best athletes who has ever lived? As he rockets up various all-time great lists with his numerous achievements, it’s probably fair to say yes – and there’s a whole lot more still to come.

Perhaps thankfully for his team and the rest of the peloton, he openly declared tomorrow they would enjoy the day and let the breakaway go, effectively creating their own ‘Paris stage’ celebration day. Assuming the others on GC are happy to concede and take it easy too, it provides one last precious opportunity for the climbers who have yet to take anything away from this race.

One of my favourite things about the day was Richard Carapaz taking control of the KOM jersey. He will set off tomorrow in pursuit of wearing it all the way to Nice. Even though he will in fact be wearing it in Nice already, tomorrow. But it means that each of the four special jerseys is owned outright, rather than being won by default, which is just a Good Thing.

And my least favourite part of the day? Watching the lonely dot marked ‘A. Demare’ travel alone all day in front of the broom wagon, only to find out that after fighting all day to make it to the finish, he was outside of the time limit. Yet more heartbreak in this cruel and beautiful sport of ours.

FEATURE: Welcome to the Weekend: One 4 the road

Dans Mon Bidon - by Stine Momo Agerbæk

Right! *claps hands* Here we go, the last opening hour of this metaphorical bartender gig is in session and I can soon ring the bell and call “last orders” and close up shop… Am I weird for saying I’m looking forward to the quiet?

Working as a bartender on/off for more than a decade (plus tax) has probably given me a weird view on the last hours of people’s “a festive night out”. This final Tour weekend kinda feels like those particular “a quarter to closing time” moments, where the desperation (of not having scored… whether that be a partner for the night or a result for the race), disillusion (nothing good happens after 2am/stage 18…), exuberant testosterone-fuelled joy (WE RUN THIS TOWN/RACE) and sheer exhaustion (well, that one needs no further explanation, does it?) set in for everyone involved in the festivities.

We’re there, and as I watch the clock and try to keep up with the imaginary dishes and drunkards of the night, the bar orders become weirder and weirder… Some guys are nursing their stale, flat beer, ordered an hour ago, like they’re afraid to run out of fuel and can’t afford one more. Some have gotten to the point where I’ve mandated them water and a cola, no more alcohol for you lads!

A large group of guys looking suspiciously like a mix of breakaway artists, sprintybois and now-captainless domestiques all gather around a tall, ginger American, who despite his Kruijswijk-wide shoulders and Yankee intonation seems surprisingly soft-spoken. “Life is bitter, huh?” He sighs, as he, in accordance with the brand’s long-running Danish ad campaign, orders shots of Fernet Branca for the whole group.

I personally hate Fernet, but they do look like they need it, so I pour. The American is handsome despite looking like he just walked across the mojave desert, and if I, this very night, was gonna eschew my principles about not hitting on customers, he’d be the one, I’m sure.

I’m pulled out of my reveries by a gang of guys who more or less seem like they’re a gender-swapped group of wooooo-girls on a night out. They’re even dressed in pink and polkadots! “Something for the man of the hour. He’s our jaguar!” They holler over the music. I sigh, I have no idea what to serve a jaguar! “Something that matches his jersey, and a Guinness for me!” A short fellow with his head slightly ajar suggests. Aye, that I can do. To match their intense hen-do vibes, I pour grenadine (red) into prosecco glasses (and curse to myself over the extra dishes this will create) and top up with cheap and cheerful bubbles. They toast me, and I take a sip. It does kinda taste like victory. A small one at least. Sometimes that’s enough.

I scan the bar for more thirsty customers. When the late night exhaustion hits, staying busy is the best cure. A group that are dressed like they’re in childrens’ TV show, one yellow, one green, one white wave me over. “We want drinks,” the yellow one laughs at me, “to match our jerseys!”.

“Of course you do, nothing else will do” I think to myself as I ask them for ID one final time tonight. Yellow gets a basic Vodka (Slovenian indie brand) and yellow lemon soda. A festive umbrella and lemon slice on top, but no sparkler. I still don’t trust that kid to not burn down the whole joint.

Green becomes something similar but with a touch of Midori, that neon green Japanese melon liquor that we never really use for anything, but the colour’s cool. It’s a rare occasion tonight and I want to honour that.

“I don’t drink alcohol,” says the white. “Of course you don't, sweetie,” I reply with a smirk. “I am old enough though,” he says, emphasis on the am. “Sure you are!” I wink and serve him a glass of milk, white as his shirt. “Don’t spill it and cry, eh?” He rolls his eyes at me but laughs too.

The party is almost over. I am tired, but probably not as tired as the riders. The final guy who orders before I go to do dishes is a tiny guy with big eyes and a distinct Danish accent. He speaks so quietly that I have to lean in to hear him properly.

“I just want a round of beers for my friends and myself… what do you recommend?” I end up serving them a basic mix of Heineken and Tuborg plus a few of the classic Limfjordsporter thrown in the mix. They all look like they’ve been through it lately, but nevertheless they smile and cheer me on as I serve them.

I can’t help smiling back at them despite my own weariness. “Don’t worry about it boys, this one is on the house.”

Alors En Danse

by DJ Momo

So… If you all thought my bartender gig had made me weird about parties, wait until you hear that I essentially became a DJ because I’m not particularly fond of most parties.

Don’t get me wrong. I like partying. I just feel like most “big parties” often turn out to be more about hype than happiness and I’m not the best at smalltalk either, as anyone who follows me on social media has probably figured out already. And the music at most parties I attended in my teens and very early twenties had a tendency to suck.

So I became a DJ.

And well, even at private parties, where I am in fact NOT the DJ (at work at least), I tend to end up somewhat involved in the music of the night anyways, because I’d rather go slightly crazy trying to cram everyone’s disjointed and insistent musical wants & needs into a playlist than to go fully crazy from a whole night of people trying to interrupt one song with their own after 37 seconds played… In some respects I feel like I may be better than a certain Slovenian in making sure everyone has a good time most of the time. So I guess I got him beat there and at least found one thing where he isn’t the GOAT?

Anyways, this is not about me, but about why overhyped parties are rarely as good as advertised. This particular “Big Tour of the Big Four” started out with everyone having gigantic (and, as we soon realised, unrealistic) expectations akin to those particular for certain types of New Year’s Eve parties. It was gonna be the “BEST TOUR EVER” and “A FIGHT TO THE END” and well… We should probably all have realised that those expectations were gonna crash and burn when the Basque starter-course turned out to be a disaster? Or when the Italian primi piatti ended up looking impressive but tasting kind of dull? I dunno? Maybe we were right to keep hoping, but well, hope rarely survives contact with the enemy fire known as reality, so here we are.

And let’s be real, as already discussed in the bartender segment, this particular point of the Tour feels like the late hours of a party to me now.

Right now some people have already left, some with loud and proud goodbyes, some with whispered excuses, some snuck out without a goodbye, and some left in tears. There’s someone sleeping under a pile of jackets in the bedroom, the kitchen is a mess (but where the best party is still going strong). Someone warns a younger friend of trusting the centre of attention in the living room, there’s at least three guys arguing on the balcony, two people crying in the bathroom and another four who cried earlier but have now made up and declared themselves “best friends 4ever”! (Yes, they wanna get tattoos, it’s probably a great idea.)

At least five guests are discussing what songs to hear next, while two others are singing along loudly (and off-key) to the previous selection. Some are definitely too old for that.

But most of all, everyone is still enveloped in that hazy microcosm that is the dying hours of a once-promising party and everyone is still committed to the chorus of “we’re not going home, not yet, not now…”And here I sit. In the middle of the chaos. Managing the playlist that is slowly deteriorating into a madness matching its surroundings, looking forward to the quiet. But if I’m honest; I wouldn’t want it any other way.

So I find a way to mix all the conflicting emotions and inputs and impressions into one stream of songs and hope everyone gets to hear their song before they say goodbye and leave. And with that, we continue until the Nice morning light hits us.

Stage 20: Nice - Col de la Couillole

About tomorrow...

1-1-1 Things of the Tour de France

by Mathieu Fraisse

one food, one fact and one local rider, for every place on edition 111 of Le Tour

1 food: Socca niçoise 

Nope, that's not a dance! Socca is Côte d'Azur typical street food made from chickpea flour and olive oil.

You spread the dough on a plaque and put it in the oven. Just wait for it to brown, a dash of pepper on top and it's ready to serve.

Don't wait for it to cool down as it will get less tasty as the chickpea dough thickens rapidly!

1 rider: Lenny Martinez

Born only 30km from Nice, we couldn't forget the new hope of French cycling: Lenny Martinez.

Born and raised in the film festival city of Cannes, the young Groupama-FDJ rider burst onto the cycling scene at a young age. 

With an Olympic Champ dad and a TDF stage winner and KOM jersey winner grandad, cycling flows through the veins of Lenny since he was born.

Now making a name for himself, Lenny already won a number of races and even wore the Vuelta leader's jersey on his first Grand Tour participation. The future is bright for the young local rider!

1 fact: The most doggo friendly city of France!

Nice has been voted the most doggo friendly city by the French association “30 millions d'amis” (so-called in reference to the -roughly estimated- number of pets in France).

Besides the number of parks and equipment available throughout the city, a number of elements also make Nice a dog paradise: 

• Public transport is free for pets
• Employees of the town administration are encouraged to bring their pets to work 
• A number of beaches welcome dogs, there's even a beach called “La plage des chiens” (Dog’s beach)

With the increasing number of doggos in the peloton (if you're not already, please follow this account dedicated to doggos of the peloton), there's no doubt Nice will be one of the favourite destinations for the riders!

STAGE PREVIEW

by Anna McEwen

The end is in sight, literally, as the race starts from Nice, Sunday's finish location.

It’s the last dance in the mountains for the peloton. A dance that has more vertical gains than Stage 19, with a total of 4,600 meters over 4 categorised climbs, starting with a 2 and then finishing with a 1, 1, 1 - to match the edition of the Tour!

With only just over 132 km of racing to be had and a promise from Pogačar that it’s a day for the break, it looks likely to be a punchy, exciting day with anyone who has anything left in the legs going for broke. Teams without a win so far will be particularly keen to shine today as there is nothing left to lose. 

Expect to see Carapaz fighting to get in the break to hoover up those mountain points and keep that polka-dot jersey on his back. With the sprint point not until after the first two climbs, Girmay can probably rest a little easier providing Philipsen doesn’t make the break without him.

So if Pogačar is to be believed and he isn’t going to add to his collection of wins this Tour, prepare to sit back and enjoy the chaos of a short, sharp, frantic breakaway stage.

WBR Team Predictions

Emma

Richie Carapaz secures the polka-dot jersey. Plus we will see a break win tomorrow because I want it, and my absolute dream would be Lenny Martinez.

Mathieu

Pogi said breakaway. I’ll say Romain Bardet for the last time ever in a TDF 😢

Stine

I’m sticking with my boy CRod. (Not an evil bot sent by the force but Carlos Rodriguez)

Peter

I want another grand day out for Vercher and Jordan Jegat and someone to win like Tobias Johannesson

Anna

I’m praying that the breakaway gets away, gains a good lead and they get to contest for the win.  Maybe Guillaume Martin gets to do it for Cofidis and for France!

Bookending the Tour with race wins for legendary French riders, (I'm not counting the ITT as a ‘race’ race).

Katy

Simon Yates has been close a number of times already - he'll head off up the road with his new breakaway bestie Carapaz and this time, he'll get the better of him.

Before you go...

Two rivals conceding that today, they were absolute equals on the road.

Until tomorrow, au revoir!