Stage 15: Jacá - Valle de Sálazar (Santuário de Nuestra Señora de Muskilda), 192km
GPM:
Puerto de Somport (cat.2) 16,0km @ 4,6%
Col de Soudet (cat.ESP) 21,8km @ 5,5%
Col de Bostmendieta (cat.1) 10,8km @ 7,5%
Puerto de Larrau (cat.ESP) 13,7km @ 7,8%
Santuário de Nuestra Señora de Muskilda (cat.3) 3,7km @ 7,5%
The secondary queen stage (the Cálar Alto stage is of course the true etapa reina), the penultimate Sunday of the race sees a difficult Pyrenean odyssey with five categorized climbs that begins and ends in Spain but spends much of its time in France. This is of course nothing new; French stage towns have been part of the Vuelta's staple since 1955, when after a start in Bilbao, the second stage took the péloton from San Sebastián to Bayonne as they linked the important Basque cities; during the El Correo-El Pueblo Vasco days, stages into and out of Bayonne and Biarritz became staples of the race. During the days of Loroño, Bahamontes and Jiménez criticising the Vuelta's lack of mountains, a common excuse made by the organizers was that "we can't bring the Tourmalet to Spain". However, they were able to use some sizable, at least partially French, climbs, as shown in 1965 when the Vuelta introduced France as a transit nation, passing through on a
long high mountain stage from Barcelona to Andorra, entering France from Catalunya over the Collada de Toses, before heading over Puymorens and Envalira. Full use of the possibilities of stages hopping across the Pyrenean borders would have to wait, however. Nevertheless, after Franco's death and the rapid transition period that followed, as the skiing industry developed and Pyrenean resorts blossomed, stations like Cerler, Rassos de Pegüera and resort towns like Bossòst, Vielha and Jacá became common hosts, and the Andorran stages transitioned from high altitude mountains with downhill finishes in the capital to legitimate queen stages finishing at the various ski stations, the need to vary the race became more apparent in the early 90s, with the range of mountaintop finishes introduced in the 80s now becoming annual traditions and the race needing shaking up. So in 1992, a stage to Luz Ardiden was introduced, from Vielha, over Portillon, Peyresourde, Aspin, Tourmalet and then with the MTF. The stage
was won in style by vaunted climber Laudelino Cubino, although horrible weather meant lacking crowds were there to see it (part of the reason there had also been a reluctance to go with high French mountains until that point); defending champion Melcior Mauri suffered the Pyrenean pájara he was spared the previous year when the Pla de Beret stage was annulled, and disappeared from contention entirely. Jesús Montoya defended the race lead, and then followed a transitional stage from Luz-St-Sauveur to Sabiñánigo, avoiding the Aubisque but including Marie-Blanque and Pourtalet. A similar format followed in 1995, Laurent Jalabert (who else?) winning in Luz Ardiden before Spanish-based Russian Asiat Saitov won the ensuing stage to Sabiñánigo, although the race's move to September made the Aubisque more passable, so Soulor-Aubisque-Pourtalet was the order of the day.
Since then, we have seen a fair few stages pass through France in the Vuelta, most notably the
2013 Peyragudes stage which began and ended outside Spain but passed through the race's homeland (so sort of the reverse of my stage here) and the
2016 Aubisque stage which left Spain after one kilometre never to return...
The fortified city of Jacá is in the Valle del Aragón, just down the road from Sabiñánigo, and hosts the start of the stage. Apparently settled in Roman times, much of the history of the city has been lost, but it was developed on the crossings of ancient trading routes and now sits on several branches of the Camino de Santiago. Its citadel is a national monument, but it is also overlooked by the hilltop
Fuerte Rapitán which defended the city in medieval times. It was introduced to its national Tour in 1964, won by Julio Sanz from the escape, and has been seen periodically since. The last time the Vuelta rocked into town was 2012, when a stage finished at the fort, and
of course, Joaquím Rodríguez triumphed for we were at the peak of the Purito's Muritos era. In the interim, as well as the Vuelta, it has hosted the Vuelta a Aragón, the Relay des Pyrenées amateur race (a sadly departed development race for climbers) and even in 1991 the Tour de France, when in
a stage over Soudet and Somport Charly Mottet took the victory, but Luc Leblanc took the mountains points and pulled on the maillot jaune (although it would only be for a day, for in the ensuing Val Louron stage Miguel Indurain would pull on the famous jersey to begin his reign of terror).
The city is also well-renowned for wintersport, and has bid unsuccessfully for the Winter Olympics on four occasions from 1998 to 2014, but a lack of financial clout to compete with the likes of Sochi hamstrung its bids, along with IOC concerns about the lack of suitable venues for the arena sports, most of which were slated to take place in Zaragoza rather than the host city. Snowsports, however, would not be a problem, for there are a number of skiing facilities nearby, including Formigal as mentioned in yesterday's stage, Panticosa, and on the road to the Puerto de Somport, accessible from the Canfranc-Estación, there would be Astún, the most modern of the Spanish Pyrenean resorts, and Candanchú, offering Spain's only international-calibre biathlon and cross-country facilities.
Since we climbed up towards Panticosa and Formigal yesterday, it makes sense for today's first climb to be the long and gradual grind up to the Puerto de Somport, passing through Canfranc-Estación and passing the two ski stations mentioned above on its way. The climb's profile is
not that threatening (I've only categorised from Villanúa onward), but with the last 6km at nearly 7% it's also not to be taken TOO lightly. It won't challenge the best, of course, but it will certainly enable us to establish a strong breakaway, including key candidates for the King of the Mountains, strong stagehunters and teammates of top riders being placed up the road for later. The climb has only ever been seen in Grand Tours twice - the 1957 Vuelta, from the south as we climb it here, in a stage from Huesca to Bayonne which was won by Antonio Ferraz after the GPM-hunting breakaway from Portuguese José Ribeiro was pulled back, The descent is a much longer affair, and while still far from threatening in terms of gradients, it allows a lengthy respite period as we descend into the foothills of the French Pyrenees. I could have passed through to Arette via the Col d'Ichère as in that 1991 Tour stage, but felt it unnecessary, instead looping around the north to arrive in the town ready for the first ESP-category climb of the day, the mighty Col de Soudet.
The Col de Soudet was first introduced in 1987, though has seldom featured as a decisive climb. Back then it preceded Marie-Blanque and a 40km ride back into Pau; its second inclusion was that 1991 stage mentioned above. Both of these were from its western face. The first time the north face, the one I am using, was included, was the 1996 Tour, in the
260km Pamplona stage designed as an homage to reigning five-time champion Miguel Indurain, but instead the site of his final humiliation (more on that later). The climb's stats in a pure sense don't scream "ESP" (22km at 5,5%) but with over 9km averaging over 9% in the middle, it just about shades the category.
The climb has been brought back in 2003 and 2006, both times a long way from the finish in transitional stages to traditional locations (Bayonne and Pau respectively), and surprisingly the 2016 Aubisque stage mentioned above was its first inclusion in the Vuelta. However, of course, the climb has been included in a more decisive role recently too, for the summit sits just 3km down from the Pierre-Saint-Martin ski station. The Col de Pierre-Saint-Martin / Collada de Piedra San Martín first appeared in the Tour in 2007 in the Aubisque stage that the Vuelta aped in 2016, but this was from its easier Spanish side, with Juan Mauricio Soler accumulating points at the summit before the big guns came to life later. In 2015, however, a one-climb stage to the ski station at the Tour de France produced one of the most egregiously dominant performances from Team Sky that they ever managed, the
one-two for Froome and Porte causing many fans to baulk and setting in motion the
real story of the 2015 Tour, which was the fans' revolt against what they were seeing.
Here, however, it's almost 90km from the finish, so there shouldn't be any of that unless somebody goes full Landis.
As we descend from Soudet, we are now in Iparralde, the collective term used for the French Basque country's three provinces of Soule/Zuberoa, Labourd/Lapurdi and Basse-Navarre/Nafarroa Beherea. Specifically, Soule, based around Mauléon-Licharre. The scenery becomes increasingly Basque as the mountains start to decrease in altitude, but increase in the steepness and inconsistency of their mountain passes. After all, what would the Basque country be without crazy gradients?
The descent is at times
steep and tricky, but has been handled in racing many times before comfortably so should create no problems. The traditional thing to do here would of course be to continue around from Sainte-Engraçe to climb either the Puerto de Larrau or the Col de Bagargui via the village of Larrau, but I have a slight ace to play, looping around and climbing a difficult ascent unknown to racing (except in the universe in which my races exist, for it was used in my second Tour de France) - the Col de Bostmendiette or Bostmendieta, depending on your linguistic origins. The name of the climb literally means "five mountains" in Basque, and here it is the third of five categorized mountains in the stage, sitting directly in the middle.
The truth is, this one is very narrow. The good news is, however, that it isn't any narrower going either up or down than the Col d'Ahusquy that we saw in the 2016 Vuelta a España, so it turns out these Iparraldean monsters aren't quite as unusable as we may have thought - albeit the Tour's entourage may make them a no-go for a race that has the space requirements that the Tour does, but this is the Vuelta, where narrow and impossibly steep goat tracks have become a sought-after commodity! This climb is just under 11km in length averaging 7,5% but that includes a couple of kilometres averaging over 11% and a last 5km averaging well over 9%, so with the lack of space here expect attrition to really take its toll and thin the bunch out by the time we reach the summit, just 43km from the line.
The descent is also difficult, as you might expect from a narrow road such as this. It isn't as steep as the ascent, thankfully, once we get past the first tramo of around 3-400m. But nevertheless it's going to be a cautious game, because this won't be decisive unless you make a mistake - there's still too much to come for it to be truly decisive, but if an opponent is poorly positioned and you have a chance, a strong descender could make gains here before the climb to the Puerto de Larrau.
Now, I can't find a profile for the exact side that I'm using, because the descent from Bostmendieta actually joins the road to Bagargui
after the Côte de Larrau. As a result, I have to break it down into two; we are climbing the section of
Bagargui descended between the junction for the Puerto de Larrau and the hamlet of Penin on that profile, before the final 11,8km of this profile:
Yes, that includes a lot of ramps at 14, 15 or 16% and an initial 7km at 10%. Better yet, there is an intermediate sprint in the village of Larrau, so that is uphill as well, giving some bonus seconds to the reduced bunch to incentivize getting rid of as many opponents as possible early (although it is also quite likely that the break will take these and then be caught on the hellish slopes of the Puerto de Larrau). Who is most ready to suffer?
Like Soudet, the Puerto de Larrau has sadly seldom been included in a position to be as decisive to races as it will be today. It's only been climbed in professional competition twice, both of which were Tour de France stages mentioned above - it was the first climb of the day in the 2007 Aubisque stage; bizarrely from the break Txente Garcia Acosta of all people was the first to the line. The other time, it was 107km from the finish of the epic Pamplona stage, and it witnessed the changing of the guards, the end of an era. After five years at the top, the seemingly unstoppable machine that was Miguel Indurain had come into the 1996 edition expected to set a new record; at 32 he was coming out of peak years but he had been so unbeatable in previous editions, and with the 1995 vintage Indurain having displayed the big man's best ever climbing performances and the indomitable Navarrese having just won the Euskal Bizikleta and the Dauphiné Libéré (dominating the TT and winning a tough mountain stage to Briançon), there was little reason to believe that he would fold like he did in the Tour. However, after suffering from bronchitis in week one, the formerly uncrackable champion did the unthinkable and dropped in the stage to Les Arcs, losing three minutes. He continued to steadly hæmorrhage time, but remained on pace to finish top 5 with a good time trial at the end of the race, which of course was what was renowned as Miguelón's speciality.
But then came the Puerto de Larrau. The very stage which was designed to honour the great champion's beginnings, with several tough mountains before a long and rolling run-in to his hometown, even heading through the suburb of Villava, the one he called home, turned out to be the death of Miguel Indurain as a top level stage racer. He gamely fought on through Aubisque and Soudet, but
on the Larrau he broke once and for all and despite the crowds willing their local hero to the line, he crossed the line some eight minutes down, his face a grim picture of resignation. Though Indurain would win gold in the time trial at Atlanta to save some face, he was clearly not the man he had been, and when the sponsors pushed him to compete in the Vuelta for the first time since he'd been 2nd to Mauri five years earlier, when ONCE taught him a lesson with the same template he later took apart the Tour de France with, the quiet, reserved champion clearly no longer had his heart in it; he abandoned the race on stage 13, before the climb to Lagos de Covadonga, climbing off at the Mirador del Fito to mass incredulity;
race coverage even ignoring the race to focus on trying to figure out what on earth was going on with Miguelón. And just like that, it was over; one of the greats hung up his cleats for good.
As you can see there, there is a sizable parking area at the summit, which could be used as a finish, but though the Vuelta loves its steep MTFs, I have gone for something a bit more cramped, to create a more interesting finish. The Puerto de Larrau therefore crests at 22km from the line, and then we descend the easier Spanish side of the climb, into the Valle de Sálazar, a natural park and municipality in northern Navarre which I anticipate being the ones who would pay for such a finish as this. The descend leads us into the small town of Otxagabia/Ochagavía/Otsagabia (depending on your language preference, between Batua, the Basque koiné, Castilian, and the local dialect) which hosts the start and finish of another well-renowned Gran Fondo, the mighty
Irati Xtrem, over Azpegi, Errozate, Sourzay, Bagargui and Larrau. The descent is
much more regular than its northern counterpart, then eases up to comparative downhill false flat on the way to Otxagabia.
The standard approach for traceurs has often been to descend only to the junction that the descent profile begins at, then turn towards Isaba over the Alto Laza and then stage a finish at Roncalia, the Spanish side of the Pierre-Saint-Martin ski facilities (thus creating something akin to the 2007 Tour stage's route from Larrau to Piedra San Martín). Another option (although it is better after PSM) if to go to the Refugio de Linza and the small CIVO ski facility over the
Alto de Zuriza for a Mortirolo-Aprica styled combo. But both of these options would put Larrau some 40-50km from the line. Instead, I've used a little-known, somewhat cramped, but interesting little finish.
Otxagabia as you can see there is a typically Basque picture perfect mountain town. It also hosts an intermediate sprint so once more, there's a temptation for an aggressive rider to pick up some bonus seconds as well as what they will already have gained by being more aggressive on Larrau. But it also has its own local sanctuary, up on a hill overlooking the town. Parking is sparse, but there is a nice clearing between the summit of the climb and the sanctuary itself, so there should be enough room for the Vuelta's finish provided that the majority of the team cars and the race caravan stays in Otxagabia. I would say that neutral service only for the final 4km is the way to go. or one car per team with the rest serviced by neutral service cars or the broomwagon.
Here's a video of the route. You can see the limited parking area at 6:32 and the clearing where the finish goes at 6:18. The podium ceremonies can be in the grounds of the sanctuary itself. It's cramped, yes, but there's at least as much space here as there was at the Puerto de Velefique finish in 2009, and not much less than at the Alto de Abantos finishes that hosted the race for several years. Definitely it's not worse than the Tour de France's Mûr-de-Brétagne finishes either.
The Santuário de Muskilda actually hosted a stage finish in the 2016 Vuelta a Navarra, one of the more historic and prestigious amateur races in Spain, won by promising Ecuadorian prospect Richard Carapaz for the Lizarte team; he has since signed for the professional team Lizarte feeds to, i.e. Movistar. The stage win was the centrepiece of his GC victory, as the team managed all attacks on the subsequent final stage.
In the Vuelta a Navarra, the lesser space requirements meant they put the finish actually at the summit, whereas I have it at the clearing which is a couple of hundred metres further down the road. Nevertheless, the riders will have to head back down the hill to Otxagabia to meet their team buses etc. anyhow, so it's less of a concern. If there really are concerns about space then there are two contingency plans; either we finish in the town itself, or we finish at the
Abodi Nordic ski station 7km after the summit of the Puerto de Larrau. But I think Muskilda should be fine considering some of the cramped spaces the Vuelta has managed to cram its finishing apparatus into in recent years in order to produce a finish atop a steep ramp.
So, about the climb itself: it's
3,7km @ 7,5%, so a nice little cat.3 finale, with the last 700m averaging 10%, but fairly consistent ramps with only a few steeper ones reaching 12% - by Basque standards this is a tempo climb. Not that it should really matter of course, since the race should have been exploded on Larrau and we shouldn't be seeing riders coming in in groups of more than a few until the grupetto arrives...
- I like the flammerouge layout, that's topnotch! Covatilla & Cangaas stages my picks!
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram