In the gap between thick rows of fans lining either side of a Bilbao boulevard, 21 giant buses waited for the race to begin.
Riders emerged from behind curtains to varying levels of excitement: Australian sprinter Caleb Ewan was road-blocked into posing for selfies; Tom Pidcock slammed on his brakes en route to the start when he spotted his girlfriend and their sausage dog, who wagged furiously; a deep, encouraging roar spread through the crowd as two-time winner Tadej Pogacar stepped out to stretch his legs.
But one bus stood alone, deliberately stationed around the corner, closest to the start line under Athletic Bilbao’s San Mames Stadium. Jumbo-Visma’s hotel-on-wheels looked menacing in jet black paint with golden wing mirrors hanging on either side like insect eyes. Once upon a time, it was Team Sky’s so-called Death Star filling the prime parking space, but there is a new order these days and Jumbo’s reigning champion Jonas Vingegaard is now the king with a crown to protect.
Not that the fans had necessarily come to see him. Basque riders like the aptly named Pello Bilbao and the Izagirre brothers, Gorka and Jon, were cheered like rock stars. Basque pride is a powerful, distinctive thing: technically this was all taking place in Spain for the second time in the Tour’s history, but there was not a Spanish flag in sight. Instead the Basque cross of red, white and green flapped from shoulders and flagpoles at every turn.
There are not many events that bring an entire European city to a halt, but the Grand Depart can stop a place. The Tour de France is a bike race so big you might attend and not notice the bike race at all. Not everyone was paying attention: a few blocks along, oblivious wedding guests piled out of an old church and straight into a swarm of polka-dotted spectators.
Colombian fans salute Astana’s Harold Tejada— (AFP via Getty Images)
After the pre-race pomp, the peloton rode past the Guggenheim Museum and north out of the city where a bike race broke out. Five riders escaped but their breakaway never got more than a couple of minutes clear of the rest, and with 50km to go the pack came back together as one. They skirted Spain’s northern coastline and dipped through small towns like Guernica, Pello Bilbao’s home where a giant mural looked down over the road. How the Basque Country wanted to claim the win, and with it the famous yellow jersey.
But Bilbao was one of those who slipped back in the latter stages, a victim of Jumbo-Visma’s high pace-setting on the front. As the tension grew, two top-10 contenders, Spain’s Enric Mas and Ecuador’s Richard Carapaz, clashed wheels on the penultimate descent and crashed out of contention. The sprinters had been shed on the first few climbs of this hilly 182km route, and it left a showdown between the punchiest climbers going up the short but brutally steep Cote de Pike (2km at 10 per cent average gradient), just as organisers hoped it would.
Pogacar’s UAE Emirates took up the challenge. Felix Grossschartner led up the start of the climb before Adam Yates took over – the Briton was brought into the team for this sort of sharp ascent. Then came their leader Pogacar pushing towards the top, as Vingegaard clung doggedly to his wheel.
Over the top, Yates sped down the descent and looked around to find only one for company: his twin brother Simon, of Jayco–Alula, pulled up alongside him. The Bury brothers have spent many thousands of hours riding together but never so isolated and with so much at stake. They shared the load, pulling each other into the clear air and to the final 1km uphill drag to the finish with a 15-second lead from a hungry, hunting peloton.
Adam Yates celebrates as he wins stage one of the Tour de France— (AFP via Getty Images)
As it turned out, they had more than enough to stay away. Adam had the stronger legs of the two, and he rocked back and threw out his arms as he crossed the finish line. Pogacar sprinted to third to pick up a few bonus seconds on Vingegaard, and celebrated his teammate’s win like his own. Last year it was Jumbo who had two contenders ganging up on Pogacar, who cracked under the pressure; now Vingegaard may need a solution to the same problem.
The streets quickly emptied. The buses and cars had gone, the pre-race boulevard transformed back into a road where all was quiet except for a few fans sitting out having drinks. This is the Tour in a nutshell, a race that builds giddy anticipation and then whistles through a place like a tornado. The Grand Depart was over, and the race had begun.
