Roglic wins the Vuelta a España on a very tough day and the Spaniard Enric Mas, who had a golden opportunity to beat O’Connor, falls short.
And finally, the Pasiegos. The Pasiego ports, the Pasiego stage. Oh, yeah. The Pasiegos are peculiar people. Very much their own, they say, with their customs, their ways of understanding the world . Attached to the land, to the cows, to the mute . Do you know the yellow jersey worn by Luis Ocaña, the one from Miko ? Well, Miko was founded by a Pasiego. Entrepreneurs, businessmen. Also, yes, support for select aristocrats. Pasiegas were the first breasts to suckle Alfonso XII, because Pasiegas were the most sought-after wet nurses in the country in the 19th century.
It is, the Pasieguería, an area of mountains and camberas, of steep meadows, of gorges where two cars cannot pass. Space of greenery and streams, of waterfalls and horseshoes. It is, the Pasieguería, still today a wild and rugged place. Paradise for bikes. Peak of the Vuelta 2024. Let’s see the route. Because everything goes up and down Pasiego ports, listen. Don’t pay attention to boundaries and boundary stones… Pasiego ports. Estacas de Trueba, first, on its easy side, which has an unbelievable landscape, which brings spectacular descent and with a certain crumb. Perfect asphalt, yes, it was a few years ago and some fall to La Engaña.
La Engaña is, in case you don’t know, the longest tunnel in the country, a hole in the guts of the mountain made by the sweat of Republican prisoners. Something that, surprise, was never inaugurated. But that’s another story. Ok, we finished the descent of Estacas and we linked, in a row, Braguía and Caracol. The second one is harder, both interesting. To be silly… well, 17 kilometers up. You see, it’s all about adding and adding before the hardest part.
📈 18% feels better when you have the support of these crowds
— La Vuelta (@lavuelta) September 7, 2024
😎 El 18% es menos si tienes el apoyo de la 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙀.#LaVuelta24 pic.twitter.com/7ONz8XvLpm
A very hard port
That is Lunada. The Portillo de Lunada. You may have heard of the phrase “Ports closed by snow: Portillo de Lunada”. It doesn’t go up very high, but it’s embedded in the valley that… And it’s hard. Another fifteen 15, always hovering around six or seven. After a while you leave behind the remains of the Resbaladero de Lunada, which was a slide as long as twenty Bernabéus (universal measurement) where they threw logs in the 18th century. Imagine the noise. Imagine the engineering. Ah, it keeps adding up.
Then it’s downhill to Las Machorras, then up La Sía (another seven kilometres), then down La Sía right to Asón, go through Soba (another valley of valleys, another place with legends), continue through the old Velasco manor to Fresneda and start to climb Los Tornos. Los Tornos, yes, along that “different” side, along that side that doesn’t cross Herada, another eleven well-maintained kilometres. And finally, drop down to the plateau, descend to Espinosa (taking a good detour, because… well, because I have no idea), and climb up to that Picón Blanco of steep slopes and pine forests, of places where the temperature is suffocating and curves where the bike doesn’t move forward.
To sum up? Sixty-seven kilometres of climbing between the last 150 of the stage. The rest is downhill, because the mountain passes connect perfectly (except the last one, as I already told you). Granted, everything is on impeccable roads (except for that asphalt in Lunada that does so much good to the dentists of Cantabria), and that the slopes are almost always six (roughly speaking) except in Picón, but… Stage.
Is it a route that could be improved? Of course. You could have climbed Braguía via Guzparras, a town of good people and dizzying little ramps. If you want, try one of the killer slopes in Matanela, taking advantage of the usual one for the descent, which has good asphalt. You could even go down that Estrangueda from the other day, which was so groundbreaking (although it didn’t break anyone), or go all out to get to Collao Espina, to Los Machucos, which has both uphill and downhill (although now it’s not suitable for vertigo). Or Picón, climbing it from Arredondo, which is a legendary thing. All of that can be done, and it would improve the stage, why lie to you. But what there is is enough. Slopes, kilometres of climbing, a good chain.
Complaints? Fine, but there are. And it shows. A quick start, a getaway with… well, let’s see, a getaway with the usual suspects. The last partial exam online and everything has a certain air of “end of year dinner”, of “reunion of old friends on Facebook ”. And, as in the meetings that are held on Facebook , there are problems, quarrels, little issues . Between Marc Soler and Jay Vine, who fight for the mountain, although they shouldn’t fight for the mountain (or maybe they should), because they are friends and they get along really well, really really well, really like Big Brother contestants, just like the Gallagher brothers. And that, they fight for the mountain, like dog faces. And Marc Soler ends up leaving alone, because that’s what he likes.
Marc Soler and Mikel Landa
The breakaway, I say, has the classics. Vine, Soler, Castrillo, Champion, Berthet, Frigo… that bunch, you know. The breakaway is making its way up and down the Pasieguca roads . Marc Soler finds out that there was a smelter here and decides to give away energy, for the pose; Castrillo is still high on gamma rays, I can’t take Vine seriously with that little moustache, Jack Haig sends a sign of life to his relatives (Jack Haig, remember?, what times)… and so on.
In the peloton… Well, surprises, well, surprises, because Daniel Felipe and Vlasov suffer serious intoxication from too much rubbing (it has happened to all of us), and they drop off very quickly. Add to that the fact that Carlos Rodríguez’s team is pulling (yes, he is racing), add to that the Landista dinosaurs then come in (looking for compensation), and we have a really cool climb to Lunada. Ah, Marc Soler alone along the Resbaladero, and the Casa del Rey, and the Picón del Fraile, because Marc Soler is a solitary guy, he is a guy who loves nature and solitude, Marc Soler is Walt Whitman with shorts and a pompadour.
Several things happen. The breakaway doesn’t come, because it always hovers around a hundred seconds. This part is a bit easy for the pros… going up La Sía, going down La Sía (what a beauty, going down La Sía, looking out at that mane of anhanuca where the Asón is born, passing by vulture houses, going into La Gándara), reaching the Fresnedo junction. Let’s say that everything is at an impasse, that cards are thrown, that it’s time for the end. So much ups and downs… relaxation and biodramina.
Until, starting at Los Tornos , Mikel Landa attacks. And all the riders who could have caught him, all the ones you would have bet on, catch up with him, but Landa attacks, and insists with his team, with those diplodocuses. The advantages that fall like the hair of a forty-something scoundrel, more attempts, glances, weighing up situations, Carlos Rodríguez (yes, that Carlos Rodríguez whose team he was pulling before) as a minor piece collected. There are thirty-five kilometers left. There is a lack of worlds. And strength. There is a lack of worlds and strength. Perhaps, also, desire, although at this point… So, for one reason or another… All for the Picón. The route gave for something more, despite the peculiar distribution of hardness that we said before, but it is what it is.
Fatigue, Pedro, fatigue. Same with Tadej… But that will be another year. Los Tornos is crowned by Sivakov, who has more chubby cheeks today than in Lisbon, man, more chubby cheeks today than in Lisbon. Go on, Sivakov, scared to death in case he crosses paths with Castrillo, he is terrified of Castrillo, Castrillo appears in his nightmares, so he flees from Castrillo and heads for Picón. Behind the good guys, keeping up the pace. Keeping up the pace so much that they start to climb fifty seconds after Sivakov. That is not a distance, okay, but…
But he couldn’t either
Last climb and… Primož Roglič asks his men to push on, because he wants a tribute (there will be two after yesterday, so he won’t get a hat-trick in Madrid). It turns out that his team is in trouble, so he takes charge first-hand with almost seven climbs to go, on a straight stretch of absolutely devastating pine trees. It’s not, in his opinion, a RKO routine, but he’s picking out beads from a rosary that was already, at this stage, too big. And not even that, because, timid, he stops the mini-offensive and lets his teammates take the camera. Very generous, Primož.
Meanwhile, Pavel is still thirty seconds behind… until Roglič comes back to the charge , and then the half-minute is “look, there he goes in the distance”. So they come closer, inexorable, but opening up less of a gap than a barrier in front of Roberto Carlos. The leader, the ex-leader, Carapaz, Mas, Gaudu (great end of the race), Landa… The usual stuff. Let there be no sprint…
(When you read criticism of Tadej or Vingegaard for rampaging like a Hun’s horse through everything they pass… remember these things, please remember these things.) Two and a half, Mas attacks, a hundred metres at full speed, he turns his face, Richard and the leader follow him, he asks for a replacement, he insists, Urko Berrade attacks from there, who has already forgotten when they called him Tony Stark, David Gaudu attacks from there, who looks like he’s doing homework for the school’s hottest girl, Dunbar is ahead, because he jumped for the corner, because he’s interesting like an episode of “Anna and the Seven”. It all has a certain chaotic air , a certain air of a one and a half minute replay, to summarise the subject.
Victory for Dunbar, zero (rounding) differences between the favourites, Roglič wins the Vuelta, second is O’Connor two minutes behind, third Enric Mas eight seconds behind, fourth is Carapaz with the three. There is a minute between them, and they will play for the podium in the time trial. But today… it’s over. And we are in a slump, I’m not going to lie to you.