After waiting over an hour for a bus I was told left every 10-15 minutes, I learned the bus to Bukowina Tatrazanska wasn’t running today because of the race. When th consensus was that I should take a bus halfway back to Krakow and then switch to a bus to Bukowina Tatrazanska, I felt defeated. There was no way I’d able to travel that far in time to catch the sign on.
I was struggling with what to do when I saw a cyclist circle the roundabout twice. It was Lampre’s Sacha Modolo, out for a spin ahead of the climb-laden stage. No one paid any attention to him, so when he rode by me and my jaw was on the ground, he gave me a knowing nod and a wink. This was just what I needed to redouble my efforts to reach Bukowina Tatrazanska!
A taxi driver agreed to take me 50 złoty ($16). That’s far more than my accommodation costs but it would be worth it! We hit traffic pretty quickly but the driver turned onto a back road and we were flying. And then we weren’t. We hit the kind of traffic where drivers first open their windows, then switch off the engine, then open their doors, then stand outside of their cars, and finally start socializing with their fellow stranded neighbors.
For 30 agonizing minutes, it was like this. Occasionally a frustrated driver would give up and maneuver a 50 point turn to head back to Zakopane. Moving up a few meters at a time like this, I saw what had brought traffic to a stand still: a local amateur race. Obviously, I support bike racing at all levels, but I question the wisdom of closing off the one and only road into Zakopane, a popular hiking destination with foreigners and Poles alike on a weekday morning.
It was frustrating to accept that after yesterday’s dismal sign on, I’d miss out completely on today’s, but it was out of my hands. At this point I was just hoping to grab a good spot on the final climb. The course would take the peloton over 4 hilly laps around Bukowina Tatrazanska, so at least I’d get to see the race.
I was surprised and delighted that when the road reopened, we were really moving. Suddenly the sign on was possible! When the driver stopped at a roadblock 3km from Bukowina Tatrazanska, I tried to tell him I was happy to walk. Instead, the driver convinced the police officer to let us through! All I understood him say was “Tour de Pologne” while gesturing at me. The cop peered in the window at me, said something to the driver, and waved us through. I’ll never know what the driver said but he was killing himself laughing as we drove on!
The time? Only 10:45! Still plenty of time to make the 12:20 sign on!
With the race starting a posh hotel, several team buses were already there and the day’s preperarions were well underway.
A few of the teams had stayed overnight at the swanky spa hotel, but I wonder if any of them took advantage of the hotel’s waterpark!
With 15 minutes before sign on, things were noticeably more organized today. Phew.
The Tinkoff riders sauntered out of the hotel and onto the stage. Hardly anyone noticed Rafal Majka until he was introduced!
Defending champion Pieter Weening signed on at a table that barely reached his knees.
After yesterday, I took a “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” approach and was at the base of the podium steps for autographs. This relieved me of my need to yell like a maniac since the riders would have to walk right in front of me. But it still wasn’t a proper solution: with each passing minute, more and more people came, shoving papers and pens into the riders’ hands. I love getting signatures, too, but it was clear that the spectators didn’t know who the riders were and were just getting autographs for the sake of it. The riders, who aren’t particularly enamored with the Tour de Pologne to begin with (I asked one rider I’ve met several times if he and his teammates like the race and he responded with a laughing grimace and said, “it’s different?”), were none too impressed with the amount of people,milling about or clambering for autographs. Pretty soon, I felt like I would be part of the problem if I stuck around where I was, so I backed off.
Even without being smack in the heart of things, I still got to talk with a lot of the riders I missed yesterday: Thierry Hupond, Johannes Fröhlinger, Guillaume Boivin, Sergey Lagutin, Hugo Houle, Christian Meier, Caleb Fairly, and a few others.
Waiting for the start.
Boom! The starter’s pistol fired…and the clouds opened up. Before most of the riders had even clipped in, the rain hammered down. Several riders looked up to the heavens with their arms held wide, saying “Really?!”
The good news is the downpour abated after 15 minutes and there wasn’t another drop the rest of the afternoon, despite a forecasted storm.
I knew there was some good elevation gain in the last 3km, so I started walking away from the finish line and found a good place about 1.8km to go which happened to be the feed zone.
Kids chalked the road. One of them wrote “go” and everyone stopped to ask what it meant.
With the peloton approaching, the soignies grabbed an armful of water bottles and waited by the side of the road.
A breakaway of 7 had formed that included Christian Meier and Sergey Lagutin.
Nearly five minutes later, the peloton arrived en masse with Tinkoff driving the front.
Fumi Beppu, Bjorn Thurau, and Oscar Gatto were just ahead of the cars. I was cheering for Beppu when I noticed Gatto suddenly swerve violently towards me.
I know it was on a climb, but if you’ve never had a cyclist come barreling towards you at 30kph, I can tell you it’s pretty startling!
I stood still as he seemed to know where he was going. I figured Gatto wanted to take a nature break but instead he climbed into the front seat of his team van. He stayed to watch the peloton pass, grab a snack, and prepare to ride to the team bus to abandon the race.
Gatto was still there to cheer for his teammate and my fellow Canadian, Guillaume Boivin, who was in the cars. When I’d talked with Guillaume in the morning, we joked that this would not be his day on the podium. The stage profile looked like a series of Ws: up, down, up, down, up…as a sprinter, Guillaume said he just wanted to limit his suffering today. Poor guy. How can you not cheer for him?!
When the last of the riders had passed, the kids all gathered at the various team cars, begging for water bottles and laughing like crazy.
With 2 laps to go the soigneurs grabbed musettes and claimed their places on the road.
Fröhlinger, still part of the same break, looked through his feed bag.
The peloton had halved the break’s lead.
Again, Tinkoff was bunched near the front to protect Majka.
Andrey Amador grabbed a musette.
Go, Guillaume, go!
For the bell lap, I moved closer to the finish line and chose a spot about 700 meters to go. The break was still going but they had a maximum of 15 seconds on the chasers.
The peloton had shattered. Tinkoff remained at the front of the first chase group.
A sticky bottle for Sam Bewley.
Adriano Malori received some advice from his directeur sportif.
Guillaume had moved up and was now joined by OPQS’s Serge Pauwels.
Knowing that Poland’s favorite son had a good shot of winning the stage and taking the keader’s jersey, I hurried to find a place at the finish line.
Workers double checked the finish line itself and attended to the final touches.
Meanwhile, the party was in full swing! Who knew all Poland needed to have a good time was a bunch of free hats and some dancing?
A screen broadcasted the race and the crowd roared with approval when Majka attacked his group. As he rode the closing kilometers, the emcee and crowd chanted back and forth “Rafal! MAJKA!”
Majka soloed in, his arms outstretched in victory.
Ten seconds later, Beñat Intxausti and Ion Izagirre crossed the finish line, exactly reproducing the top 3 finishers from yesterday’s stage.
Up the road, everyone waited eagerly for the awards to take place. Petr Vakoc had finished 48 seconds behind Majka, so the yellow jersey would change hands.
The top 3 on the stage are also the top 3 for GC after today.
Majka received this say-something hat and a hatchet, in addition to the usual flowers, champagne, and stuffed animal. He threw the flowers and animal into the crowd, but wisely held on to the hat and hatchet.
With a lead of 18 seconds over Intxausti, Majka put on the leader’s yellow jersey for the first time.
It occurred to me that with no buses running and probably no taxis around, I might be in for a long walk back to Zakopane and just an hour to go until sunset. I skipped out on the rest of the awards and started down the climb, admiring the green view.
I watched as riders from Belkin, Europcar, and Garmin sped down on their way to their buses. Whenever a car passed, I stuck my thumb out. Most people didn’t bother to acknowledge me, but I appreciated the Katusha bus driver shrugging his shoulders apologetically. A car stopped before too long and I caught a ride all the way to my hostel’s front door with Tom, a wonderfully friendly English speaking Pole.
Today’s 26 autographs (and remember, I held back!) came from: 2 Mitch Docker, 5 Ivan Santaromita, 6 Cameron Meyer, 7 Sam Bewely, 16 Petr Vakoc, 21 Rafal Majka, 23 Evgeny Petov, 24 Nicki Sørenson, 27 Bruno Pires, 31 Edvald Boasson Hagen, 36 Sebastian Henao, 38 Kanstantsin Siutsou, 43 Enrico Gasparotto, 44 Francesco Gavazzi, 94 Oscar Gatto, 121 Andrey Amador, 124 Gorka Izagirre, 134 Thierry Hupond, 145 Pim Ligthart, 153 Hugo Houle, 163 Alexandre Geniez, 166 Laurent Mangel, 175 Davide Malacarne, 182 Paweł Bernas, and 201 Sergey Lagutin.
The day got off to a rocky start, but this was the Poland I was expecting. Three cheers for Poland!
