The one that got me: An epic winner on the Hautacam 25 years ago, waiting for us in heaven

On a July afternoon in 2000, my 13-year-old self turned on the TV to watch the first big mountain stage of that year’s Tour. Crossing the Col de Marie-Blanque, Col d’Aubisque, and Col du Soulor before finishing in Hautacam, it would be the first test for the GC contenders.

I had been following the Tour since 1996 when Bjarne Riis won*, but that year we were on a camping holiday in Denmark, so my information came through articles and results lists in Danish newspapers. In 1997, I watched Jan Ullrich’s GC victory, and in 1998, I watched Ullrich be put firmly into place by Marco Pantani. In 1999, a US rider I’d never heard of before, Lance Armstrong, beat* both Pantani and Ullrich. Who would be the strongest in 2000?

But as I started watching that day, 10 July 2000, I was gripped by a different story: a small Basque climber who was defying expectations with a long-range breakaway against all the odds. That was then-25-year-old Javier Otxoa, racing through the rain and the cold in the white, green, and blue stripes of Kelme-Costa Blanca that were iconic even then.

Together with Nico Mattan, Otxoa had attacked after 50km of the 205km stage, eventually catching lone attacker Jacky Durand (who else). Their advantage had grown to over 17 minutes, and on the Marie-Blanque, Durand lost contact. On the Aubisque, Otxoa left Mattan behind as well, continuing solo with over 50 kilometres still to go.

When researching for this piece, I learned that Otxoa was meant to be a satellite rider for a later attack by the team’s GC leader Fernando Escartin, but the massive time gap meant that he was instead encouraged to go for the stage victory. Back in 2000, I had no idea about these intricate team tactics – all I saw was that minuscule Basque climber on the ride of his life.

Otxoa was eight minutes ahead of everybody else when he started the finishing climb to Hautacam. By this point he was exhausted, but he kept going on and on, through the throngs of spectators, many of them Basque (but not yet clad in the orange that only came to the Tour a year later with Euskaltel-Euskadi), who had braved the rain to cheer on Otxoa or, really, any rider racing by.

Further back in the peloton, Armstrong had started his rampage, effectively securing his second Tour victory on the first mountain stage. The towering Texan had started the Hautacam climb almost 12 minutes down on Otxoa, but he dropped Ullrich, Pantani and  Alex Zülle, and blasted through the riders who had attacked earlier – Escartin, Santiago Botero, Joseba Beloki, Richard Virenque – barely pausing when he reached one group before going past them.

Otxoa’s lead kept melting away, and Armstrong came closer and closer. At the 3km mark, where Otxoa’s uncle had positioned himself at the roadside, Armstrong and José María Jiménez were 3:15 minutes behind. At the 2km mark, Armstrong had left Jiménez behind and was only 2:15 minutes down on Otxoa who was also cheered on by his twin brother Ricardo. But would the dream of a Tour stage victory be shattered and this epic breakaway reeled in so close from the finish?

Armstrong had distanced all his rivals, he had not only taken the GC lead but put a stranglehold on it, and the overall Tour victory* was as good as his. Why keep going like a man possessed when the result would be to rob this little-known rider of his first professional win? I didn’t understand it.

Like the roadside spectators, I was willing Otxoa on as he was shivering in the wet and cold, pedalling squares; not that I knew that term at the time. Neither did I know ‘aupa’, the Basque shout of encouragement, but if I had, I would have screamed myself hoarse shouting it at our TV set.

At the flamme rouge stood Ricardo sr., the Otxoas’ father. Armstrong was less than two minutes behind, but he didn’t make up quite as much time now as before. One kilometre to go. Two final hairpins through the crowd.

In the end, Otxoa made it. He reached the finishing straight, put his arms in the air, made the sign of the cross on his chest, then raised his arms again as he crossed the line. Armstrong finished 42 seconds down.

Otxoa also rode himself into the polka-dot jersey that day, though his teammate Botero would take it off him on stage 14 to Briançon and wear it all the way to Paris. Otxoa finished 13th overall in the 2000 Tour, and Kelme-Costa Blanca stood on the podium as winners of the team classification.

Alas, the story doesn’t end here. Life isn’t Hollywood, and the story of Javier Otxoa does not have a happy ending.

In a post-race interview on Hautacam, Otxoa had described his stage-winning breakaway as “me he muerto encima de la bicicleta” – “I have died on my bike.”.

Javier and his twin brother Ricardo, born in Barakaldo on 30 August 1974, both became pro cyclists in the second half of the 1990s. Ricardo was picked up by ONCE for the 1995 season and spent four years in their yellow-and-black kit but did not score a new contract for 1999. Javier had signed with Kelme-Costa Blanca for 1997, and he convinced the team to take on Ricardo as well for the 2000 season – it is said that Javier forwent part of his salary which instead went to his twin brother.

Ricardo wasn’t selected for the Tour de France, but he and the rest of the family went to the Pyrenees and saw Javier win that epic stage. A week after the Tour, Javier won the Ordiziako klasikoa/Clásica de Ordizia in the Basque Country, and along with his performance from the Tour, other teams became interested in signing Javier. But he preferred to stay put and with his brother.

On 15 February 2001, the twins were on a training ride in Andalucía when they were hit from behind by a car. The police report said the driver had a ‘moment of inattention’ – it is likely he fell asleep at the wheel.

Ricardo was dead on the spot, declared deceased in the ambulance. Javier had suffered enormous injuries and was in a coma for 65 days before he woke up. The first thing he did was ask about Ricardo. Hospital staff wanted to spare Javier the tragic news, but he knew they were lying to him.

After a long period of recuperation, physical and mental, Javier took up para-cycling. He won Paralympic gold in the combined road race/time trial event in Athens 2004 and silver in the individual pursuit, but after another accident involving a car, he no longer trained on the road. In 2008, Javier won two more Paralympic medals in Beijing, gold in the time trial and silver in the road race. Ten years later, on 24 August 2018, Javier passed away from a brain tumor, probably a late consequence of his 2001 injuries, leaving behind his parents, Ricardo sr. and María, and his older brother Andoni. Ricardo’s tombstone bears the words “wait for us in heaven”. I believe that Javier, at least, is reunited with Ricardo.

The Getxoko zirkuitua/Circuito de Getxo, a Basque one-day race held since 1924 and organised by the cycling club where the Otxoa brothers started cycling, was given the additional name Memorial Ricardo Otxoa in 2001. Since 2019, the race has been run as the Otxoa anaiak memoriala (Otxoa Brothers Memorial).

On that July afternoon in 2000, Javier made a 12-year-old child (and so many other cycling fans) happy. From that day onwards, I have always, always rooted for the breakaway.

Rest in peace, Javier and Ricardo.
Descanse en paz, Javier y Ricardo.
Goian beude, Javier eta Ricardo.

Aupa!