The Stage of the Four Cols.
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A bit of nostalgia from the days when a trip across the Tourmalet with a 45 mile downhill run to the finish did not always result in a club run! (Scanned from my own copy of Wadley's long out of print booklet). Enjoy!
Eddy Merckx: Two Outstanding memories.
By J.B. Wadley
Kennedy Brothers Publishing. 1970.
The Stage of the Four Cols.
July the 14th is Bastile Day, a public holiday in France, and the national champion Raymond Delisle celebrated it in 1969 by arriving first at Luchon, one of the key towns in Tour de France warfare. It was a popular victory but meaningless so far as the overall picture of the race was concerned. Delisle was about two hours behind race leader Eddy Merckx on total riding time.
The day had been unbearably hot, and when the riders assembled in the Allees d'Etigny in Luchon next morning many were seen to be adding salt to the bidons of tea and mineral water they drew from the U.N.A. feeding point. There was also a special issue of cabbage leaves! The team trainers had been raiding local greengrocers for this time- honoured form of neck protection against the burning sun. Today there would be more than seven hours of it, the course running to the north-west over the famous "Stage of the Four Cols." Two of these climbs, the Peyresourde and the Aspin, were given a second-category rating in the Grand Prix de la Montagne competition, the others being those supreme Pyrenean tests the Tourmalet and the Aubisque.
On this stage some of the greatest dramas of the Tour de France story have been played out, enormous crowds packing the mountain roads to cheer the riders battling for a stage win or to improve their overall position. Such was frequently the case in the immediate pre-war years, and Sylvere Maes was immensely proud to call his Flemish cafe "The Tourmalet." On the other hand, in recent years especially, the stage of the Four Cols has quite often been disappointing, and once or twice such a flop that even mild-mannered race director Jacques Goddet wrote in his L'Equipe· “Today we expected to applaud the Giants of the Mountain. All we saw was a lot of dwarfs.”
This was, of course during the Jacques Anquetil era. As one of my friends in the Cafe Tourmalet at Gistel had implied, Anquetil was a great time trialist but only a moderate climber. The French star used to gain time in the series of events "against the watch" and defend his position in the mountains instead of attacking. Perfectly fair, of course, but not popular with the· crowds. When whole families have been waiting for five hours on a mountain-top they want to see the field split to bits with half an hour separating the first man over the top and the 'sag wagon' trailing the last rider on the road. Often in the early 60's the whole show was over in three minutes.
As we watched the 92 survivors of the 130 who had started from Roubaix 17 days earlier lining up at Luchon, I wondered what sort of "Four Col" show we should see today. My own view was that it would be one of the duller performances, disliked by the public yet in the circumstances not too severely slated by the critics. The Belgian press in fact was urging Merckx to take it easy for a bit; he had an eight minute lead over Pingeon; leave the attacking to him and Poulidor and Gimondi; sit-in, Eddy-boy; there may be four big cols on this stage, but the summit of the last one, the Aubisque is still 45 miles from the finish; you can afford to be two minutes behind at the top after an easy climb, then get back with them without any trouble at all; they'll be so tired you can attack again in three days time on the Puy de Dome if you have set your mind on winning the Tour by ten minutes.
Indeed, I saw these huge headlines in the weekly paper "Le Sportif":
The prayer of all Belgium for her Super-Champion: EDDY BE CAREFUL!
The Col de Peyresourde gets down to business right away, lifting gradually from the Vallee de Luchon on to green uplands opening out to afford glimpses of mightier mountains to be encountered later in the day. On this July 15th there was quite a bit of snow on the highest Pies of the Pyrenenan chain. We were cruising along about 200 yards ahead of the field, with frequent opportunities of pulling up at wide and steep hair-pin bends and looking down at the riders a lacet or two below. It was a beautiful spectacle, that bunch of Tourmen seen from above, like a multi-coloured creature crawling along its own white path up the green mountainside. But even the snail's pace was too fast for the Italian rider Polidori who quickly lost contact and quit the race.
We could not, of course, recognise Polidori from our mobile crow's nest, although we knew by his colours he was in the Molteni team. We got the information from our car's short-wave radio, permanently tuned-in to the assistant race-director's car. But we could see well enough what was happening at the front of the bunch; the red jerseys of the Faema team were all there surrounding their super-champion Eddy Merckx. Was this to be the pattern of the race? Had Merckx decided that eight minutes lead was enough?
A mile from the summit of the eight-mile climb the fat crawling mountain creature was transformed into a long snake-like and faster-moving thing as Spanish rider Galera forced the pace in search of Grand Prix de la Montagne points. He arrived at the top ten seconds ahead of Bellone, Pingeon and Merckx. Our theory was strengthened that Merckx was leaving the initiative to Pingeon and was merely going to follow him wherever he went. Apart from Delisle and Dancelli (Italy) who were at 25 seconds, the head of the main group came over 30 seconds after Galera.
Although Delisle continued his effort for a time and passed Galera there was a general regroupment on the 10-miles descent to Arreau.
As Arreau approached there was a general quickening of the pace, for the town was the scene of today's "Hot Spot" sprint. This would be one of a daily series throughout the Tour sponsored by the ice-cream firm Milko, with £25 to the winner each day and £400 for the man with the best points total at the end of the 21st and last stage. Today's gallop resulted in a win for Abrahamian (the little Frenchman who won the points prize in the 1967 Tour of Britain) from Reybroeck, Leman (both of Belgium), Riotte (France) and Michael Wright (G.B.). Michael was hoping for a better place than this, but still remained at the top of the table with 32 points to Riotte's 3Q and Leman's 29.
The Hot Spot over, the riders left Arreau to tackle their second High Spot of the day, the short, sharp and sinuous ascent of the Col d'Aspin. In almost every way it was a carbon-copy of the previous climb: a slow moving bunch pedalling together like a giant club-run through exquisite touring country. At the front, we noted as we continued our watch from above, there was usually the distinctive tricolor jersey of ¬French national champion Delisle, yesterday's winner. Was he there, we wondered, just to show those critics who said that after his spectacular success on July 14th he would be totally invisible on July 15th? Perhaps that was the idea. But there was no speculation as to why another rider was constantly in the first five on the slow climb: Eddy Merckx was there to avoid being caught by a surprise attack.
Again there was an acceleration of the pace towards the top, and again Galera was off after his Mountain Points, this time pursued by little Paul Gutty of France. They topped the Aspin with a five seconds lead over Merckx, Pingeon being 30 yards behind, and the strung-out field about as far back again.
Now at that stage, Merckx was not particularly interested in the Grand Prix de la Montagne competition. Had he ambitions in that direction he most certainly could have been first to the top of the Aspin as he could have been on the earlier Peyresourde. Merckx's plan on the two climbs was not only to keep near the front to avoid being caught by a surprise break, but also to be in the first half-dozen at the summits so that he could tackle the dangerous drops more or less on his own. When the Aspin climb was over, Merckx was soon leading the descent, having passed Galera and Gutty "sitting up" after their fight on the bare mountain (though not bare of spectators !).
On his own Merckx was able to negotiate the early tight bends of the Aspin descent in peace and quiet, whereas behind the main pack had to look out for each other as well as the hazards of the tortuous road. When the road eventually straightened out, Merckx was 200 yards in the lead. An ideal position for an attack!
But why should Merckx attack? He had eight minutes in hand, remember. And, in any case, there were still 100 miles to go, including the climbs of the Tourmalet and Aubisque.
So, after unhurriedly taking his mussette of food and drink at La Seoube, Eddy sat up and allowed himself to be caught in St. Marie de Campan. Did he, I wonder, notice the name of the village? It is a famous one in Tour de France history, for it was here in 1913 that Eugene Christophe spent three hours in the blacksmith's shop repairing the forks which had snapped on the Tourmalet just as he had taken over the general classification lead. Six years later in 1919 Christophe was to be the first rider ever to wear the Yellow Jersey. Now riding through Christophe's village, 50 years almost to the day since the creation of the Maillot Jaune, was as great a race leader as the Tour has ever seen. But times have changed. If Eddy Merckx's forks broke, a spare bike would be off the Faema· team car in a flash and he, would not lose ten seconds . . . .
Eve¬n without the Christophe legend of the broken forks, the name of St. Marie de Campan would still be steeped in Tour de France history, lying as it does at the foot of the great Tourmalet mountain pass. But, as I have already observed, the presence of such a mighty obstacle does not necessarily mean a mighty drama. Two tough cols had already been accounted for without providing many lines of "copy" in our notebooks, and we wondered if the old saying "Never two without three" would apply in this case.
Continuing the vigil from our mobile observation post 200 yards or so in front of the riders, we at first got the impression that the Tourmalet climb might well turn out to be a copy in triplicate of the Peyresourde and the Aspin. The Faemas were in front. But after a mile or so the difference was plain. On the first two cols Merckx had been around at the front to keep his eyes open for attacks on the climb and to keep safe on the descents. Now on the Tourmalet the plan was different. Alone among his opponents Pingeon was still showing signs of aggression, and if the pace was made hard enough, the Peugeot rider might think twice about attacking, and if he did the well-protected Merckx would have little trouble in going after him.
With the road temporarily turning awkwardly for us and. visibility marred by rocks and spectators massed on the vantage points, we lost sight of the race for two or three miles. When we saw it again, and reading from bottom to top, there were 20 or more riders struggling up on their own or in small packets, then two groups of 15 separated by 50 yards, the first being a good half-minute down on the leading packet of 30. But whereas earlier at the head there had been almost a complete Faema bodyguard for Merckx, now there was only one and having already had plenty of practice picking him out on similar adventures earlier in the Tour, we knew that he must be Martin Van den Bossche, Merckx's team-mate No. 1.
Now, once again thanks to the remarkable Radio-Tour service over the short-wave set we quickly had the names of the 30 group in our note-books but it will only confuse the issue if I spell them out in full. As the road climbed steadily along the "straights" and tilted alarmingly at the hair-bends, many of those 30 lost contact as Merckx and Van den Bossche forced the pace, the latter still finding time and energy to sprinkle a bidon of water over his leader's neck.
When the group was whittled down to about a dozen we were able to drop in behind them, noting as they passed us that the inevitable French "tandem" (though riding for different teams) of Poulidor and Pingeon were immediately behind pace-setters Merckx and Van den Bossche. They were, it will be remembered, two of the riders who had declared at the start that they would be riding for second place behind Merckx in this Tour; but where was the third candidate for that position, Felice Gimondi?
On that climb of the Tourmalet a tired Gimondi was right at the back of the group. Yesterday he had suffered a bad time through stomach trouble, and his position at the rear was an indication that all was not well today. About three miles from the summit the great Italian was "off the back" by 30 yards, but obstinately forced his weakening legs to take him back to temporary safety. Within another mile poor Gimondi was in trouble again and this time it was the end.
Then it was the turn of the Portugese star Agostinho to fight in vain to hold the wheel in front, and as he and Gimondi dropped backwards, up from lower groups came the fast pedalling figure of the young Belgian Van Impe who had turned professional just to ride the Tour.
It was now time for us to motor past and join the crowds on the Tourmalet.
The summit of the Tourmalet is ten miles from anywhere, yet thousands of eager fans have packed the road or scrambled up the rocks to get a grandstand view of the mountain-top spectacular. The crowd on the Pyrenees always includes hundreds of Spaniards who have crossed the frontier to cheer their men; there are always a few dozen British clubmen, too, lapping it all up, often wearing the distinctive yellow oilskin capes even in bright sunshine, for it can be a chilly business waiting around for four hours in shorts and jersey at an altitude of nearly 7,000 feet.
Always, too, on the Pyrenean cols are Belgian holiday makers brandishing stirring banners of encouragement to their compatriots. For 21 years they have been waving them in vain. Now at last the hour of deliverance is at hand. Merckx is coming! The Kleber car a mile or so ahead of the race arrives, announcing the composition of the leading group. It is news to few of the waiting thousands, who have been getting it all kilometre-by-kilometre over their transistors. A second team of radio cars is already on the summit Europe No.1; Luxembourg; France-Inter. The T.V. car, too, with the remarkable Leon Zitrone toning up for one of his vivid descriptive commentaries. "Zit" has been a great success on this Tour his name was even carved in the Galibier snows alongside that of Merckx, Gimondi and Poulidor. The Tele-copter with camera trained on the race moves slowly towards us, but the giant gendarmerie helicopter hovers for a bit, then darts here and there with a great deal of wind and noise.
I have already observed that over the years the Tourmalet crowds have had their disappointments as well as the thrills. But there will be no disappointments today. The strong men have been riding hard. Today no "dwarfs" will collect the mountain points and primes while the lazy giants amble along in the sun a quarter of an hour behind.
As we wait near our friends the radio-reporters some advance press-cars pass over the summit and· begin the long downhill stint. Every Tour driver knows he must top a col at least a kilometre ahead of the riders so as to keep out of their way on the descent. Then comes the splutter of an advance squad of motor-cycle police. Getting warm now! Suddenly there is great animation high above us. The spectators massed on the rocks have sighted the leaders immediately below. They leap and scamper to previously selected vantage points ready for the close-up view.
They get there just in time, for the prologue is over. The last of the mobile gendarmerie, lights flashing and whistles shrieking, herald the approach of the men contesting the honour of being first to the top of one of the most celebrated of all Tour de France cols. Not a big sprint; a two-up affair in fact, one rider clearly ahead…
And here, sprinting as though he had just been for a ride round the block is a man in a yellow jersey. Sorry. The Man in The Yellow Jersey, Eddy Merckx! Belgians cheer the loudest maybe, but this is not a national issue. There's not a spectator on the Tourmalet summit who does not clap and roar his delight in seeing the race leader demonstrating his superiority. Bike fans all, they have been fearful that Merckx may have been tempted as some boxers are when well ahead on points. But there is no playing safe with Eddy-boy he's after the knock out!
On Merckx's wheel is the faithful Van den Bossche; the pair have a 5 seconds lead over Poulidor, Gutty and Zimmerman, and at 10 seconds are Bayssiere, Theilliere, Pingeon and (the only non- Frenchman in the group) Gandarias of Spain.
"The next are 11 minutes back" shouts a colleague trailing them in his car. Fine! That means we can tack on the back of what we are certain will be a general regroupment on the descent. The spectators may think that Merckx is out for the knock-out, but everything points against it. His overall position for one thing: eight minutes up on Pingeon. The distance for another: 87 miles still to go.
As we in a powerful car fight a losing battle to keep with the seven pedallers on the early hazards of the frightening descent we can see down below us that Van den Bossche has lost contact with Merckx who is simply flying down the mountain-side on his own and drawing rapidly away from the group immediately under our observation. At the summit he had 5 seconds on the best of them now it looks to be getting on for a minute!
"Hello-Hello" Radio Tour comes loud and strong as we roar down a short mountain straight, only for the announcement to weaken almost to the point of inaudibility as we screech round a bend and head in the opposite direction. But soon the signal is full strength again, and we are able to complete the Tourmalet results in our notebooks:
"One and a half minutes behind the Pingeon group came Agostinho and Van Impe. At 2-5 Dumont; at 2-25 Vidament and Wagtmans; at 2-45 Dancelli and Vianelli; at 2-55 Janssen; at 3-10 Gimondi".
Poor Gimondi. He will not even be second in this Tour de France. . .
Down the western side of the Tourmalet swept The Man in The Yellow Jersey, down from the open mountainside to the Gorges de Luz which encloses the still-descending road to Argeles-Gazost where the U.N.A. table was stacked with musettes for the second mobile food of the stage.
The first customer of the day was soon there, Eddy Merckx sitting up and taking the bag of sustenance from Guillaume Driessens and with all the time in the world to transfer the eatables to his jersey pockets and the bidons to the carriers on the seat and down tube. What was the menu this hot afternoon? Probably two or three fruit tartlettes, some sugared petits suisses (cream cheese) sandwiches, an apple, a banana, a few sugar lumps. A bidon of tea (no milk, of course) and one of mineral water, either gassy or "still" according to his preference at the time.
I say "probably" because these items were on the list which every journalist had had in the note-book for days in his anxiety to find out what makes Merckx tick. We knew, too, from his personal doctor (Dr. Marlier) who was now following the Tour that Merckx did not take vitamins in any form during the stage as so many riders were doing, although they play a part in his preparation.
We learned later that at this point Merckx had still not the slightest intention of continuing on his own. Although the descent of a mountain pass is not just a matter of free wheeling and calls for all manner of physical and moral qualities, Merckx had undoubtedly been "resting" during the greater part of the spectacular exit from the Tourmalet stage. On the earlier section he was constantly looking across and up at the "enemy" whom he expected to be gaining on him. His only immediate plan had been to keep ahead and arrive at Argeles- Gazost to take the food bag on his own.
This mission accomplished Merckx continued quietly on his way, his pursuers taking on their own food and drink one minute later. Gandarias and Gutty having lost contact on the descent, the group was now reduced to six, of whom only five were making any contribution to the pace, for Merckx's team- mate Van den Bossche was now with them and doing nothing to help.
Argeles-Gazost, the feeding town, lies at a strategic point in the Pyrenean scene and is just eight miles from the famed city of Lourdes, which is reached by an easy ride alongside the busy Gave de Pau river. But on this 15th of July 1969 Eddy Merckx was the pathfinder on a different road, a narrow uphill pilgrimage towards the fourth and last of the day's cols, the great Aubisque. The first slopes out of the town allowed us easily to motor by the group of six. Van den Bossche, naturally, was at the back, Pingeon in the front looking none too pleased with life, and neither was Poulidor in second position.
Between them the two Frenchmen had climbed the Aubisque a dozen times in previous Tours, and knew that even after the summit was reached the finish of the stage was still nearly 50 miles away.
Eddy Merckx, on the other hand, had never raced over the Aubisque, and when we came up to him he was in the process of taking the stage itinerary from his pocket to plot his position. This was it, we thought. Merckx now realises the recklessness of continuing on his own and will sit up and wait for the others. He knew from a quick word with Driessens at the feeding station that there was nobody within five minutes of his immediate pursuers. Merckx will surely decide, we thought, to wait for the Pingeon-Poulidor group which also contains his team-mate Van den Bossche, and ride in company up to the Aubisque summit and the remaining 47 miles to the finish.
But to our astonishment, Merckx put the little plastic- covered document back in his pocket, took a swig from one of the bottles and carried on!
Soon we were approaching the first "step" of the Aubisque pass, the col de Sou1our, which is followed by a short descent before the final three miles of the major obstacles is tackled.
It was along this narrow track hewn out of a towering amphitheatre of rock that the procession of cars following Merckx braked and slithered to a violent halt.
The dropping road allowed us to see what was happening over the cars ahead. The Faema mechanic was making a lightning change of Merckx's back wheel.
"Merckx punctures at km 130" we wrote in our notebooks, and didn't change the item until later that evening when a Belgian colleague told us that Eddy's tyre had not flattened. He just wanted a different block for the last and hardest part of the Aubisque.
This time we did not go ahead to the summit of the col, for there would be no sprint. We preferred to sit in and watch yard by yard the triumphant ascension of the Yellow Jersey.
Without being a "pedaller of charm" like the late Hugo Koblet and Felice Gimondi, Merckx is a pleasing rider to watch from behind, his shoulders moving gently and rhythmically from side to side. His progress on a climb is regular, but he does not remain seated all the time, although his periods of "dancing" are probably as much to relieve saddle pressure as to overcome the gradient. He is not a naturally stylish climber as was the "Angel of the Mountain" Charly Gaul, nor a restless, fidgity puncher like Federico Bahmontes, the "Eagle of Toledo". Merckx is a rider saturated with such class, an athlete of cycling sport, that he cannot help but be an excellent mountaineer as well.
And so Merckx pedalled on and up through an ever-thickening crowd which although not understanding why on earth Merckx leading the Tour by eight minutes should want to be out on his own, was wild with delight that he had chosen to do so. "Bravo Eddy" called the giant placards the Belgian fans were waving "You are the King".
He was, too, the King of the Mountains, for although still not really trying he was piling up the points in the Grand Prix de la Montagne competition.
As the summit of the Aubisque approached the gendarmes on their motor-bikes had to blast a path through the crowd for Merckx and the following cars. The heat was intense yet Merckx refused a hundred bottles from the crowd. Only at the summit did he grab a sheet of plastic material from a Faema helper and stuff it under his yellow jersey as protection against the cool air on the long descent.
For the fourth time that day we braced ourselves for a crazy downhill motor-cross, but within a few minutes we slithered to a halt as the car in front of us braked violently.
Further ahead the Faema team car had punctured! We were able to slide through the narrow space left and could see directeur sportif Driessens grabbing two or three spare wheels and scrambling into the big Gazet van Antwerpen car. Soon that car, with Driessens's head out of the sunshine roof, was roaring by us on the way to rejoin Eddy Merckx. Driessens didn't immediately drop in behind his man, but went alongside to let him know the position. Nearly seven minutes up at the top of l' Aubisque!
Many of us were now thinking back to 1964 when, on his 36th birthday, Federico Bahamontes was first to the top of the Aubisque with a six minutes lead, and was virtual maillot jaune. "The Eagle" still had that amount in hand when the descent was over, but there remained 30 miles of flat road to the finish at Pau. Baha won the stage, but lost more than four minutes of his lead-and did not take over the race leadership. He hadn't weakened; indeed it was as fine a ride as I had seen for many a year. He was beaten by superior forces behind, for in the group at six minutes was race leader Georges Groussard and two or three of his Pelforth colleagues, and Jacques Anquetil and four of his St. Raphael team. Bahamontes was therefore riding entirely on his own against at least nine men "organised" by the strongest unpaced rider in the world, Jacques Anquetil.
Had a similar situation obtained in this 1969 stage, then Driessens would certainly have advised Merckx to sit up and wait. The experienced directeur sportif who had also handled Coppi and Van Looy in earlier days knew that it would have been suicide to have persisted if a formidable squad of rauleurs had topped the Aubisque together. But that was far from the case:
"They're seven minutes back!" Driessens shouted to Merckx "and the next group is at a quarter of an hour. Only Pingeon and Poulidor are really working, and Van den Bossche is spoiling their effort as much as possible."
It was not until that moment that Eddy Merckx really decided to "try". Until now he had been climbing on his own at the same pace as if he had been in company; he had descended quicker because he was alone. Now there were 35 miles to go, and he knew they were not as easy as the downhill trend on the relief sketch of the course having overnight asked a "local", ex-world champion Andre Darrigade, for details of the finishing stretch. The fact that they were a number of small hills did not deter Merckx. The bunch behind, couldn't catch him on the Aubisque when he wasn't really trying, so why should they do so when he really got down to business? -
But before beginning that effort, the intelligent Maillot Jaune sat up to eat and drink. Then off smartly, though with hands still on the tops.
We waited back to have a look at the condition of the pursuers of whom only Van den Bossche looked at all happy, and with reason. His presence contributed greatly to the misery of Poulidor and Pingeon, whose only small consolation was the knowledge that Gimondi was in a much worse state of mind and body miles back along the road.
Then we motored back fast - and what a long time we took! - to rejoin Merckx. In our absence, it seemed, Eddy had lost some of his zip. He was beginning to get out of the saddle for even the smallest of the hills. At the village of Buzy, 25 miles from the finish, came a vicious little climb, and on it we went by and got a revealing close-up of the star of the day. He was no longer the tranquil, unruffled master we had seen almost floating up· the Aubisque. This hill was making him suffer.
"Merckx's lead with 40 kms to go was 6m 30" Radio Tour told us.
That meant half a minute lost since the summit of the· Aubisque. Not serious. Or was it? We knew that Pingeon and Poulidor were unlikely to pull him back through the power of their riding. But what if Eddy were showing the first signs of cracking?
In the days before serious dope-controls were instituted, this was the kind of situation where a little bit of chemistry could save the day. But this was the Tour de France 1969, and Merckx above all others was out to show the world that he could get along without illicit help, that he could win the Tour on mineral water.
It was, in fact, a bottle of mineral water taken from Driessens (now back in his official team car) that gave him a new lease of life and he tackled the next hill with vigour. It later transpired that the Pingeon group was suffering just as badly along this stretch, and with minor fluctuations the margin separating them from the lone battler ahead remained in the region of seven minutes for most of the chase. And it was not the group, but the loner who found a finishing sprint to such a tune that he had nearly eight minutes in hand on crossing the line at Mourenx-Ville-Nouvelle. Neither was the runner-up a member of the original group, but Dancelli, who had made a remarkable descent of the Aubisque on his own and eventually caught Pingeon & Co.
And so Eddy Merckx had won one of the most incredible stages in Tour de France history. Five days late he arrived at the Municipale track in Paris, the first Belgian winner of the Tour de France for 30 years. Eddy Merckx had the Tour victory already sewn up long before the Pyrenees, but just as old-timers talk about Sylvere Maes' exploits on the Tourmalet in 1939, so will a new generation remember with pride the July day in 1969 when Eddy Merckx topped the summit of that great col to begin a fantastic 140 kms time trial to the finish.
In doing so Eddy doubled his overnight lead on Pingeon and by the end of the Tour had increased it to 17 minutes 54 seconds. This was more than the combined winning margins of the last seven Tours!
The previous year Jan Janssen had just 38 seconds to spare at the end of 2,900 miles racing, and in 1964 Anquetil beat Poulidor by 55 seconds. These might be called calculated wins. As for Felice Gimondi, he suffered a well-calculated defeat in 1969. After the Tour of Flanders in the spring the Italian star predicted that Eddy Merckx would win the Tour de France by half an hour, no doubt expecting that he would be the runner-up. In fact Gimondi finished fourth. At 29 minutes 29 seconds…
Eddy Merckx: Two Outstanding memories.
By J.B. Wadley
Kennedy Brothers Publishing. 1970.
The Stage of the Four Cols.
July the 14th is Bastile Day, a public holiday in France, and the national champion Raymond Delisle celebrated it in 1969 by arriving first at Luchon, one of the key towns in Tour de France warfare. It was a popular victory but meaningless so far as the overall picture of the race was concerned. Delisle was about two hours behind race leader Eddy Merckx on total riding time.
The day had been unbearably hot, and when the riders assembled in the Allees d'Etigny in Luchon next morning many were seen to be adding salt to the bidons of tea and mineral water they drew from the U.N.A. feeding point. There was also a special issue of cabbage leaves! The team trainers had been raiding local greengrocers for this time- honoured form of neck protection against the burning sun. Today there would be more than seven hours of it, the course running to the north-west over the famous "Stage of the Four Cols." Two of these climbs, the Peyresourde and the Aspin, were given a second-category rating in the Grand Prix de la Montagne competition, the others being those supreme Pyrenean tests the Tourmalet and the Aubisque.
On this stage some of the greatest dramas of the Tour de France story have been played out, enormous crowds packing the mountain roads to cheer the riders battling for a stage win or to improve their overall position. Such was frequently the case in the immediate pre-war years, and Sylvere Maes was immensely proud to call his Flemish cafe "The Tourmalet." On the other hand, in recent years especially, the stage of the Four Cols has quite often been disappointing, and once or twice such a flop that even mild-mannered race director Jacques Goddet wrote in his L'Equipe· “Today we expected to applaud the Giants of the Mountain. All we saw was a lot of dwarfs.”
This was, of course during the Jacques Anquetil era. As one of my friends in the Cafe Tourmalet at Gistel had implied, Anquetil was a great time trialist but only a moderate climber. The French star used to gain time in the series of events "against the watch" and defend his position in the mountains instead of attacking. Perfectly fair, of course, but not popular with the· crowds. When whole families have been waiting for five hours on a mountain-top they want to see the field split to bits with half an hour separating the first man over the top and the 'sag wagon' trailing the last rider on the road. Often in the early 60's the whole show was over in three minutes.
As we watched the 92 survivors of the 130 who had started from Roubaix 17 days earlier lining up at Luchon, I wondered what sort of "Four Col" show we should see today. My own view was that it would be one of the duller performances, disliked by the public yet in the circumstances not too severely slated by the critics. The Belgian press in fact was urging Merckx to take it easy for a bit; he had an eight minute lead over Pingeon; leave the attacking to him and Poulidor and Gimondi; sit-in, Eddy-boy; there may be four big cols on this stage, but the summit of the last one, the Aubisque is still 45 miles from the finish; you can afford to be two minutes behind at the top after an easy climb, then get back with them without any trouble at all; they'll be so tired you can attack again in three days time on the Puy de Dome if you have set your mind on winning the Tour by ten minutes.
Indeed, I saw these huge headlines in the weekly paper "Le Sportif":
The prayer of all Belgium for her Super-Champion: EDDY BE CAREFUL!
The Col de Peyresourde gets down to business right away, lifting gradually from the Vallee de Luchon on to green uplands opening out to afford glimpses of mightier mountains to be encountered later in the day. On this July 15th there was quite a bit of snow on the highest Pies of the Pyrenenan chain. We were cruising along about 200 yards ahead of the field, with frequent opportunities of pulling up at wide and steep hair-pin bends and looking down at the riders a lacet or two below. It was a beautiful spectacle, that bunch of Tourmen seen from above, like a multi-coloured creature crawling along its own white path up the green mountainside. But even the snail's pace was too fast for the Italian rider Polidori who quickly lost contact and quit the race.
We could not, of course, recognise Polidori from our mobile crow's nest, although we knew by his colours he was in the Molteni team. We got the information from our car's short-wave radio, permanently tuned-in to the assistant race-director's car. But we could see well enough what was happening at the front of the bunch; the red jerseys of the Faema team were all there surrounding their super-champion Eddy Merckx. Was this to be the pattern of the race? Had Merckx decided that eight minutes lead was enough?
A mile from the summit of the eight-mile climb the fat crawling mountain creature was transformed into a long snake-like and faster-moving thing as Spanish rider Galera forced the pace in search of Grand Prix de la Montagne points. He arrived at the top ten seconds ahead of Bellone, Pingeon and Merckx. Our theory was strengthened that Merckx was leaving the initiative to Pingeon and was merely going to follow him wherever he went. Apart from Delisle and Dancelli (Italy) who were at 25 seconds, the head of the main group came over 30 seconds after Galera.
Although Delisle continued his effort for a time and passed Galera there was a general regroupment on the 10-miles descent to Arreau.
As Arreau approached there was a general quickening of the pace, for the town was the scene of today's "Hot Spot" sprint. This would be one of a daily series throughout the Tour sponsored by the ice-cream firm Milko, with £25 to the winner each day and £400 for the man with the best points total at the end of the 21st and last stage. Today's gallop resulted in a win for Abrahamian (the little Frenchman who won the points prize in the 1967 Tour of Britain) from Reybroeck, Leman (both of Belgium), Riotte (France) and Michael Wright (G.B.). Michael was hoping for a better place than this, but still remained at the top of the table with 32 points to Riotte's 3Q and Leman's 29.
The Hot Spot over, the riders left Arreau to tackle their second High Spot of the day, the short, sharp and sinuous ascent of the Col d'Aspin. In almost every way it was a carbon-copy of the previous climb: a slow moving bunch pedalling together like a giant club-run through exquisite touring country. At the front, we noted as we continued our watch from above, there was usually the distinctive tricolor jersey of ¬French national champion Delisle, yesterday's winner. Was he there, we wondered, just to show those critics who said that after his spectacular success on July 14th he would be totally invisible on July 15th? Perhaps that was the idea. But there was no speculation as to why another rider was constantly in the first five on the slow climb: Eddy Merckx was there to avoid being caught by a surprise attack.
Again there was an acceleration of the pace towards the top, and again Galera was off after his Mountain Points, this time pursued by little Paul Gutty of France. They topped the Aspin with a five seconds lead over Merckx, Pingeon being 30 yards behind, and the strung-out field about as far back again.
Now at that stage, Merckx was not particularly interested in the Grand Prix de la Montagne competition. Had he ambitions in that direction he most certainly could have been first to the top of the Aspin as he could have been on the earlier Peyresourde. Merckx's plan on the two climbs was not only to keep near the front to avoid being caught by a surprise break, but also to be in the first half-dozen at the summits so that he could tackle the dangerous drops more or less on his own. When the Aspin climb was over, Merckx was soon leading the descent, having passed Galera and Gutty "sitting up" after their fight on the bare mountain (though not bare of spectators !).
On his own Merckx was able to negotiate the early tight bends of the Aspin descent in peace and quiet, whereas behind the main pack had to look out for each other as well as the hazards of the tortuous road. When the road eventually straightened out, Merckx was 200 yards in the lead. An ideal position for an attack!
But why should Merckx attack? He had eight minutes in hand, remember. And, in any case, there were still 100 miles to go, including the climbs of the Tourmalet and Aubisque.
So, after unhurriedly taking his mussette of food and drink at La Seoube, Eddy sat up and allowed himself to be caught in St. Marie de Campan. Did he, I wonder, notice the name of the village? It is a famous one in Tour de France history, for it was here in 1913 that Eugene Christophe spent three hours in the blacksmith's shop repairing the forks which had snapped on the Tourmalet just as he had taken over the general classification lead. Six years later in 1919 Christophe was to be the first rider ever to wear the Yellow Jersey. Now riding through Christophe's village, 50 years almost to the day since the creation of the Maillot Jaune, was as great a race leader as the Tour has ever seen. But times have changed. If Eddy Merckx's forks broke, a spare bike would be off the Faema· team car in a flash and he, would not lose ten seconds . . . .
Eve¬n without the Christophe legend of the broken forks, the name of St. Marie de Campan would still be steeped in Tour de France history, lying as it does at the foot of the great Tourmalet mountain pass. But, as I have already observed, the presence of such a mighty obstacle does not necessarily mean a mighty drama. Two tough cols had already been accounted for without providing many lines of "copy" in our notebooks, and we wondered if the old saying "Never two without three" would apply in this case.
Continuing the vigil from our mobile observation post 200 yards or so in front of the riders, we at first got the impression that the Tourmalet climb might well turn out to be a copy in triplicate of the Peyresourde and the Aspin. The Faemas were in front. But after a mile or so the difference was plain. On the first two cols Merckx had been around at the front to keep his eyes open for attacks on the climb and to keep safe on the descents. Now on the Tourmalet the plan was different. Alone among his opponents Pingeon was still showing signs of aggression, and if the pace was made hard enough, the Peugeot rider might think twice about attacking, and if he did the well-protected Merckx would have little trouble in going after him.
With the road temporarily turning awkwardly for us and. visibility marred by rocks and spectators massed on the vantage points, we lost sight of the race for two or three miles. When we saw it again, and reading from bottom to top, there were 20 or more riders struggling up on their own or in small packets, then two groups of 15 separated by 50 yards, the first being a good half-minute down on the leading packet of 30. But whereas earlier at the head there had been almost a complete Faema bodyguard for Merckx, now there was only one and having already had plenty of practice picking him out on similar adventures earlier in the Tour, we knew that he must be Martin Van den Bossche, Merckx's team-mate No. 1.
Now, once again thanks to the remarkable Radio-Tour service over the short-wave set we quickly had the names of the 30 group in our note-books but it will only confuse the issue if I spell them out in full. As the road climbed steadily along the "straights" and tilted alarmingly at the hair-bends, many of those 30 lost contact as Merckx and Van den Bossche forced the pace, the latter still finding time and energy to sprinkle a bidon of water over his leader's neck.
When the group was whittled down to about a dozen we were able to drop in behind them, noting as they passed us that the inevitable French "tandem" (though riding for different teams) of Poulidor and Pingeon were immediately behind pace-setters Merckx and Van den Bossche. They were, it will be remembered, two of the riders who had declared at the start that they would be riding for second place behind Merckx in this Tour; but where was the third candidate for that position, Felice Gimondi?
On that climb of the Tourmalet a tired Gimondi was right at the back of the group. Yesterday he had suffered a bad time through stomach trouble, and his position at the rear was an indication that all was not well today. About three miles from the summit the great Italian was "off the back" by 30 yards, but obstinately forced his weakening legs to take him back to temporary safety. Within another mile poor Gimondi was in trouble again and this time it was the end.
Then it was the turn of the Portugese star Agostinho to fight in vain to hold the wheel in front, and as he and Gimondi dropped backwards, up from lower groups came the fast pedalling figure of the young Belgian Van Impe who had turned professional just to ride the Tour.
It was now time for us to motor past and join the crowds on the Tourmalet.
The summit of the Tourmalet is ten miles from anywhere, yet thousands of eager fans have packed the road or scrambled up the rocks to get a grandstand view of the mountain-top spectacular. The crowd on the Pyrenees always includes hundreds of Spaniards who have crossed the frontier to cheer their men; there are always a few dozen British clubmen, too, lapping it all up, often wearing the distinctive yellow oilskin capes even in bright sunshine, for it can be a chilly business waiting around for four hours in shorts and jersey at an altitude of nearly 7,000 feet.
Always, too, on the Pyrenean cols are Belgian holiday makers brandishing stirring banners of encouragement to their compatriots. For 21 years they have been waving them in vain. Now at last the hour of deliverance is at hand. Merckx is coming! The Kleber car a mile or so ahead of the race arrives, announcing the composition of the leading group. It is news to few of the waiting thousands, who have been getting it all kilometre-by-kilometre over their transistors. A second team of radio cars is already on the summit Europe No.1; Luxembourg; France-Inter. The T.V. car, too, with the remarkable Leon Zitrone toning up for one of his vivid descriptive commentaries. "Zit" has been a great success on this Tour his name was even carved in the Galibier snows alongside that of Merckx, Gimondi and Poulidor. The Tele-copter with camera trained on the race moves slowly towards us, but the giant gendarmerie helicopter hovers for a bit, then darts here and there with a great deal of wind and noise.
I have already observed that over the years the Tourmalet crowds have had their disappointments as well as the thrills. But there will be no disappointments today. The strong men have been riding hard. Today no "dwarfs" will collect the mountain points and primes while the lazy giants amble along in the sun a quarter of an hour behind.
As we wait near our friends the radio-reporters some advance press-cars pass over the summit and· begin the long downhill stint. Every Tour driver knows he must top a col at least a kilometre ahead of the riders so as to keep out of their way on the descent. Then comes the splutter of an advance squad of motor-cycle police. Getting warm now! Suddenly there is great animation high above us. The spectators massed on the rocks have sighted the leaders immediately below. They leap and scamper to previously selected vantage points ready for the close-up view.
They get there just in time, for the prologue is over. The last of the mobile gendarmerie, lights flashing and whistles shrieking, herald the approach of the men contesting the honour of being first to the top of one of the most celebrated of all Tour de France cols. Not a big sprint; a two-up affair in fact, one rider clearly ahead…
And here, sprinting as though he had just been for a ride round the block is a man in a yellow jersey. Sorry. The Man in The Yellow Jersey, Eddy Merckx! Belgians cheer the loudest maybe, but this is not a national issue. There's not a spectator on the Tourmalet summit who does not clap and roar his delight in seeing the race leader demonstrating his superiority. Bike fans all, they have been fearful that Merckx may have been tempted as some boxers are when well ahead on points. But there is no playing safe with Eddy-boy he's after the knock out!
On Merckx's wheel is the faithful Van den Bossche; the pair have a 5 seconds lead over Poulidor, Gutty and Zimmerman, and at 10 seconds are Bayssiere, Theilliere, Pingeon and (the only non- Frenchman in the group) Gandarias of Spain.
"The next are 11 minutes back" shouts a colleague trailing them in his car. Fine! That means we can tack on the back of what we are certain will be a general regroupment on the descent. The spectators may think that Merckx is out for the knock-out, but everything points against it. His overall position for one thing: eight minutes up on Pingeon. The distance for another: 87 miles still to go.
As we in a powerful car fight a losing battle to keep with the seven pedallers on the early hazards of the frightening descent we can see down below us that Van den Bossche has lost contact with Merckx who is simply flying down the mountain-side on his own and drawing rapidly away from the group immediately under our observation. At the summit he had 5 seconds on the best of them now it looks to be getting on for a minute!
"Hello-Hello" Radio Tour comes loud and strong as we roar down a short mountain straight, only for the announcement to weaken almost to the point of inaudibility as we screech round a bend and head in the opposite direction. But soon the signal is full strength again, and we are able to complete the Tourmalet results in our notebooks:
"One and a half minutes behind the Pingeon group came Agostinho and Van Impe. At 2-5 Dumont; at 2-25 Vidament and Wagtmans; at 2-45 Dancelli and Vianelli; at 2-55 Janssen; at 3-10 Gimondi".
Poor Gimondi. He will not even be second in this Tour de France. . .
Down the western side of the Tourmalet swept The Man in The Yellow Jersey, down from the open mountainside to the Gorges de Luz which encloses the still-descending road to Argeles-Gazost where the U.N.A. table was stacked with musettes for the second mobile food of the stage.
The first customer of the day was soon there, Eddy Merckx sitting up and taking the bag of sustenance from Guillaume Driessens and with all the time in the world to transfer the eatables to his jersey pockets and the bidons to the carriers on the seat and down tube. What was the menu this hot afternoon? Probably two or three fruit tartlettes, some sugared petits suisses (cream cheese) sandwiches, an apple, a banana, a few sugar lumps. A bidon of tea (no milk, of course) and one of mineral water, either gassy or "still" according to his preference at the time.
I say "probably" because these items were on the list which every journalist had had in the note-book for days in his anxiety to find out what makes Merckx tick. We knew, too, from his personal doctor (Dr. Marlier) who was now following the Tour that Merckx did not take vitamins in any form during the stage as so many riders were doing, although they play a part in his preparation.
We learned later that at this point Merckx had still not the slightest intention of continuing on his own. Although the descent of a mountain pass is not just a matter of free wheeling and calls for all manner of physical and moral qualities, Merckx had undoubtedly been "resting" during the greater part of the spectacular exit from the Tourmalet stage. On the earlier section he was constantly looking across and up at the "enemy" whom he expected to be gaining on him. His only immediate plan had been to keep ahead and arrive at Argeles- Gazost to take the food bag on his own.
This mission accomplished Merckx continued quietly on his way, his pursuers taking on their own food and drink one minute later. Gandarias and Gutty having lost contact on the descent, the group was now reduced to six, of whom only five were making any contribution to the pace, for Merckx's team- mate Van den Bossche was now with them and doing nothing to help.
Argeles-Gazost, the feeding town, lies at a strategic point in the Pyrenean scene and is just eight miles from the famed city of Lourdes, which is reached by an easy ride alongside the busy Gave de Pau river. But on this 15th of July 1969 Eddy Merckx was the pathfinder on a different road, a narrow uphill pilgrimage towards the fourth and last of the day's cols, the great Aubisque. The first slopes out of the town allowed us easily to motor by the group of six. Van den Bossche, naturally, was at the back, Pingeon in the front looking none too pleased with life, and neither was Poulidor in second position.
Between them the two Frenchmen had climbed the Aubisque a dozen times in previous Tours, and knew that even after the summit was reached the finish of the stage was still nearly 50 miles away.
Eddy Merckx, on the other hand, had never raced over the Aubisque, and when we came up to him he was in the process of taking the stage itinerary from his pocket to plot his position. This was it, we thought. Merckx now realises the recklessness of continuing on his own and will sit up and wait for the others. He knew from a quick word with Driessens at the feeding station that there was nobody within five minutes of his immediate pursuers. Merckx will surely decide, we thought, to wait for the Pingeon-Poulidor group which also contains his team-mate Van den Bossche, and ride in company up to the Aubisque summit and the remaining 47 miles to the finish.
But to our astonishment, Merckx put the little plastic- covered document back in his pocket, took a swig from one of the bottles and carried on!
Soon we were approaching the first "step" of the Aubisque pass, the col de Sou1our, which is followed by a short descent before the final three miles of the major obstacles is tackled.
It was along this narrow track hewn out of a towering amphitheatre of rock that the procession of cars following Merckx braked and slithered to a violent halt.
The dropping road allowed us to see what was happening over the cars ahead. The Faema mechanic was making a lightning change of Merckx's back wheel.
"Merckx punctures at km 130" we wrote in our notebooks, and didn't change the item until later that evening when a Belgian colleague told us that Eddy's tyre had not flattened. He just wanted a different block for the last and hardest part of the Aubisque.
This time we did not go ahead to the summit of the col, for there would be no sprint. We preferred to sit in and watch yard by yard the triumphant ascension of the Yellow Jersey.
Without being a "pedaller of charm" like the late Hugo Koblet and Felice Gimondi, Merckx is a pleasing rider to watch from behind, his shoulders moving gently and rhythmically from side to side. His progress on a climb is regular, but he does not remain seated all the time, although his periods of "dancing" are probably as much to relieve saddle pressure as to overcome the gradient. He is not a naturally stylish climber as was the "Angel of the Mountain" Charly Gaul, nor a restless, fidgity puncher like Federico Bahmontes, the "Eagle of Toledo". Merckx is a rider saturated with such class, an athlete of cycling sport, that he cannot help but be an excellent mountaineer as well.
And so Merckx pedalled on and up through an ever-thickening crowd which although not understanding why on earth Merckx leading the Tour by eight minutes should want to be out on his own, was wild with delight that he had chosen to do so. "Bravo Eddy" called the giant placards the Belgian fans were waving "You are the King".
He was, too, the King of the Mountains, for although still not really trying he was piling up the points in the Grand Prix de la Montagne competition.
As the summit of the Aubisque approached the gendarmes on their motor-bikes had to blast a path through the crowd for Merckx and the following cars. The heat was intense yet Merckx refused a hundred bottles from the crowd. Only at the summit did he grab a sheet of plastic material from a Faema helper and stuff it under his yellow jersey as protection against the cool air on the long descent.
For the fourth time that day we braced ourselves for a crazy downhill motor-cross, but within a few minutes we slithered to a halt as the car in front of us braked violently.
Further ahead the Faema team car had punctured! We were able to slide through the narrow space left and could see directeur sportif Driessens grabbing two or three spare wheels and scrambling into the big Gazet van Antwerpen car. Soon that car, with Driessens's head out of the sunshine roof, was roaring by us on the way to rejoin Eddy Merckx. Driessens didn't immediately drop in behind his man, but went alongside to let him know the position. Nearly seven minutes up at the top of l' Aubisque!
Many of us were now thinking back to 1964 when, on his 36th birthday, Federico Bahamontes was first to the top of the Aubisque with a six minutes lead, and was virtual maillot jaune. "The Eagle" still had that amount in hand when the descent was over, but there remained 30 miles of flat road to the finish at Pau. Baha won the stage, but lost more than four minutes of his lead-and did not take over the race leadership. He hadn't weakened; indeed it was as fine a ride as I had seen for many a year. He was beaten by superior forces behind, for in the group at six minutes was race leader Georges Groussard and two or three of his Pelforth colleagues, and Jacques Anquetil and four of his St. Raphael team. Bahamontes was therefore riding entirely on his own against at least nine men "organised" by the strongest unpaced rider in the world, Jacques Anquetil.
Had a similar situation obtained in this 1969 stage, then Driessens would certainly have advised Merckx to sit up and wait. The experienced directeur sportif who had also handled Coppi and Van Looy in earlier days knew that it would have been suicide to have persisted if a formidable squad of rauleurs had topped the Aubisque together. But that was far from the case:
"They're seven minutes back!" Driessens shouted to Merckx "and the next group is at a quarter of an hour. Only Pingeon and Poulidor are really working, and Van den Bossche is spoiling their effort as much as possible."
It was not until that moment that Eddy Merckx really decided to "try". Until now he had been climbing on his own at the same pace as if he had been in company; he had descended quicker because he was alone. Now there were 35 miles to go, and he knew they were not as easy as the downhill trend on the relief sketch of the course having overnight asked a "local", ex-world champion Andre Darrigade, for details of the finishing stretch. The fact that they were a number of small hills did not deter Merckx. The bunch behind, couldn't catch him on the Aubisque when he wasn't really trying, so why should they do so when he really got down to business? -
But before beginning that effort, the intelligent Maillot Jaune sat up to eat and drink. Then off smartly, though with hands still on the tops.
We waited back to have a look at the condition of the pursuers of whom only Van den Bossche looked at all happy, and with reason. His presence contributed greatly to the misery of Poulidor and Pingeon, whose only small consolation was the knowledge that Gimondi was in a much worse state of mind and body miles back along the road.
Then we motored back fast - and what a long time we took! - to rejoin Merckx. In our absence, it seemed, Eddy had lost some of his zip. He was beginning to get out of the saddle for even the smallest of the hills. At the village of Buzy, 25 miles from the finish, came a vicious little climb, and on it we went by and got a revealing close-up of the star of the day. He was no longer the tranquil, unruffled master we had seen almost floating up· the Aubisque. This hill was making him suffer.
"Merckx's lead with 40 kms to go was 6m 30" Radio Tour told us.
That meant half a minute lost since the summit of the· Aubisque. Not serious. Or was it? We knew that Pingeon and Poulidor were unlikely to pull him back through the power of their riding. But what if Eddy were showing the first signs of cracking?
In the days before serious dope-controls were instituted, this was the kind of situation where a little bit of chemistry could save the day. But this was the Tour de France 1969, and Merckx above all others was out to show the world that he could get along without illicit help, that he could win the Tour on mineral water.
It was, in fact, a bottle of mineral water taken from Driessens (now back in his official team car) that gave him a new lease of life and he tackled the next hill with vigour. It later transpired that the Pingeon group was suffering just as badly along this stretch, and with minor fluctuations the margin separating them from the lone battler ahead remained in the region of seven minutes for most of the chase. And it was not the group, but the loner who found a finishing sprint to such a tune that he had nearly eight minutes in hand on crossing the line at Mourenx-Ville-Nouvelle. Neither was the runner-up a member of the original group, but Dancelli, who had made a remarkable descent of the Aubisque on his own and eventually caught Pingeon & Co.
And so Eddy Merckx had won one of the most incredible stages in Tour de France history. Five days late he arrived at the Municipale track in Paris, the first Belgian winner of the Tour de France for 30 years. Eddy Merckx had the Tour victory already sewn up long before the Pyrenees, but just as old-timers talk about Sylvere Maes' exploits on the Tourmalet in 1939, so will a new generation remember with pride the July day in 1969 when Eddy Merckx topped the summit of that great col to begin a fantastic 140 kms time trial to the finish.
In doing so Eddy doubled his overnight lead on Pingeon and by the end of the Tour had increased it to 17 minutes 54 seconds. This was more than the combined winning margins of the last seven Tours!
The previous year Jan Janssen had just 38 seconds to spare at the end of 2,900 miles racing, and in 1964 Anquetil beat Poulidor by 55 seconds. These might be called calculated wins. As for Felice Gimondi, he suffered a well-calculated defeat in 1969. After the Tour of Flanders in the spring the Italian star predicted that Eddy Merckx would win the Tour de France by half an hour, no doubt expecting that he would be the runner-up. In fact Gimondi finished fourth. At 29 minutes 29 seconds…
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