In a print Dickesianwhere the mist took over the landscape in the early morning, the carefree waves of the Atlantic beat with little virulence on the rocks of the Baiona coast, just like in a hidden cove where there were a couple of brave men who went out into the ocean. They were gallant because the Vuelta has gone from the Andalusian oven to the enchanting Galician land, of seafood, of much damn itof a brilliant green, in jerseys and cardigans. A relief, in any case, for the hard-working cyclists, who no longer take refuge in socks full of ice, but instead look forward to the rest of the race with the variable of heat removed from the equation. Good for them, because they still have stages ahead of them with many legs and a shortage of oxygen, many cliffs and steep mountains. A torment for the leader O’Connor; an opportunity for the rest. Enough chapters to write. Although if the race is like this Tuesday, with the contenders as measured as they are contemplative, it will be a flatter novel. Van Aert celebrates it, Carpanta of the sprint and a rider with an insatiable appetite, a cyclist who dignifies his profession with a showmanship, once again a winner in the third stage of the Vuelta so far.
The prologue of the rest of the race took place in Vigo, from Ponteareas to Baiona, a stage of four climbs – 2nd, 3rd, 2nd and, the last, 1st, the Alto de Mougás -, a profile that once again invited the breakaway. Something that without the need of the UAE to control the race, or of Visma in its absence, which are the two teams with a large budget and riders accustomed to setting the pace of the races, is possible in a Vuelta where the daring are rewarded. It is the pirate life of the cyclists, that of putting the wheels in the dust, of pulling without looking back because there is no one to impose their law, of arriving at the area by surprise. That is why there were several who tried the attempt, Van Aert and McNulty – the first leader of the race – among them, right off the bat. For once, though, the peloton did not want any more cracks, more slaps like those of O’Connor or Yates, so they did their best to deny it. More of the same occurred on the first mountain, when the attacks returned and the multicoloured snake responded, cyclists swallowed up by the voracity of the peloton. Obviously, it would not last.
So, without having to wear themselves out more than necessary, with the calculator in hand, AG2R let go of control, at least of those riders who are not worried about them in the general classification. It is enough to tie down Roglic, Carapaz, Mas or Landa, perhaps one more bunch. They are not the Visma of last year, where the breakaways were fireworks; they are not the UAE, where Pogacar has no rival. So suddenly the peloton hit the brakes. It was a joy for the combative Van Aert and Marc Soler, as well as Pacher (FDJ), Lecerf (Soudal) and Hollmann (Alpecin), who finally managed to put a gap between them and sink their teeth deep, because when they climbed the second mountain they were already six minutes away from the mass. The finish line, the glory, the laurel of the stage, awaited them. Although, it was assumed, the fight of the chosen ones remained. But no…
It was Bora who managed to tear the peloton apart at times on the third climb, a frenetic pace to test the leader O’Connor, also to select the strongest, those who have to make their mark on the Vuelta, perhaps a little more. There was no turning back to put the brakes on. Something similar happened on the last crag, as Soudal led the rebellion, Bora seconded it, AG2R maintained it and the EF stirred it up… But there was no definitive attack but rather an attempt to set the pace; nothing to make the great climbers shiver. Sanse was over, a watery affair, nothing new, no revolution, nothing. The party, however, was ahead, where Van Aert did start before the last climb to discount everyone except Parcher, who held on with sweat. It was a full-blown fight, two riders for one crown. And at the end of the day, the race was over. sprintYou know, almost no one can handle Var Aert, the one with the endless appetite.
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