Etape. Richard Moore

climb,’ says Cavendish. ‘I just sat there and counted; counted down the kilometres. It was Tony Martin at the front; he sat in front of me and rode me up. The first three and a half, four kilometres, I was riding as though that was the summit there. I remembered what Riis had told me: that if I could get past the first 4k I could hang on up the rest of the climb. And we came to this town, and I could hear on the radio there were guys getting dropped. I heard that [Heinrich] Haussler [another strong sprinter, second to Cavendish at Milan–San Remo] was dropped.

      ‘I just kept my rhythm. But I stayed in the top fifteen up there. I could see Rabobank go to the front, with [Denis] Menchov up there, and I remember just feeling comfortable. Then it kicked up again, the last couple of ks. And that did hurt.’

      At this point, Laurent Lefèvre attacks, and he’s joined by the world champion, Alessandro Ballan. With the increase in pace behind them, Cavendish drops to fourteenth wheel, still with Martin in front, shepherding him. He has his hands on his brake hoods, perched on the nose of his saddle, and he is frowning. But additional support arrives in the shape of his Belgian team-mate, Maxime Monfort. He sits behind Martin; Cavendish sits behind both as riders pass him and he slides down the peloton. ‘I went halfway down the peloton. Luis León Sánchez attacked over the top, and he was getting behind the [TV and photographers’] motorbikes. The motorbikes that year, they were notorious for coming close to the peloton; they came really close to breaks and that.’ And riders could profit: tucking in behind them, getting shelter from the wind: even a brief moment would help.

      Ballan and Lefèvre persevere – they have thirteen seconds’ advantage going over the top – but Cavendish is still there. ‘I recovered in about 300 metres of the descent, and went straight back to the front. I can descend better than the others, and the peloton was small.’

      Monfort, George Hincapie and Tony Martin now mass at the front, Cavendish behind them. They reel in Sánchez, while Ballan and Lefèvre hang on. They tear down the descent. Cavendish takes one last drink before, with 2.2km remaining, and a little uphill kick, they catch the last two escapees.

      ‘It was wet on the descent,’ says Cavendish. ‘It had been a dry day, but it was wet – that was strange. I didn’t understand that. We could see the two guys up the road, behind the motorbikes – again. Maxime was riding. Tony was riding. And Milram were riding for Ciolek.

      ‘And we caught them with a couple of ks to go. George was still there for me, and he went first. Then Tony.’ Cavendish screws up his face as he recalls the effort made by Martin. ‘Tony did, uphill, about a 1,600m lead out. And it was uphill; he was slowing down, slowing down, but hanging on at the front. I knew it was a kind of uphill finish; but it still looked like a sprint. You could see the finish. It was coming. I just whacked it in my 14[-tooth sprocket: a relatively low gear for a sprint]. Because Tony was slowing, slowing, slowing. So it was your acceleration that was the most important part of the sprint.’

      There was a sharp right just before the slight uphill. The burly figure of Hushovd lurked behind Cavendish. They go into a tight roundabout; Freire misjudges it and goes straight across the grass in the middle, but doesn’t fall. He bunnyhops down the other side and ends up back where he was: eighth in line. At the kite, with a kilometre to go, Martin leads, Cavendish is second, Hushovd third.

      Over a bridge, high above a river, and it’s clear that Hushovd fancies it. He glances around; he knows there’s a climb coming; he can out-power Cavendish on this kind of finish. Watching Martin is painful: he swerves from one side of the road to the other, and, with 500 metres remaining, gets out of the saddle: one last effort.

      Cavendish flicks his head to the left, glancing over his shoulder, as Martin fades away and Ciolek starts to sprint. Hushovd begins his effort at exactly the same moment as Cavendish. ‘I’m in the 14,’ says Cavendish, ‘sitting there, waiting for Tony to swing over; I leave it, leave it, leave it, then I go.’ He nods, like a football manager mimicking a header by one of his players.

      Cavendish’s eyes blaze as he replays the sprint. ‘And because I’m in a smaller gear than the others, who are in the 11, I get that gap. It was slow. But I got the gap. Nobody could get near me.’

      Now he sits back, satisfied. More than that: vindicated. In Aubenas, he crossed the line a full length clear, five fingers held up, one for each stage win. And in Paris, two days later, he would make it six.

      Classement

      1 Mark Cavendish, Great Britain, Team Columbia-HTC, 3 hours, 50 minutes, 35 secs

      2 Thor Hushovd, Norway, Cervélo, same time

      3 Gerald Ciolek, Germany, Milram, s.t.

      4 Greg Van Avermaet, Belgium, Silence-Lotto, s.t.

      5 Óscar Freire, Spain, Rabobank, s.t.

      6 Jérôme Pineau, France, Quick-Step, s.t.