This is truly one of my most accomplished shots, from many points of view. It features Slovenian cyclist Tadej Pogačar, wearing the Yellow Jersey while riding in the individual time trial stage of the 2024 Tour de France. Pogačar has already legendary status and is considered by some as  the greatest cyclist of all time. The image captures him zipping past the end of a narrow gap between two rows of grapevines, at over 50 km/h. The gap is no more than 1 meter and therefore, the window for taking the photo is measured in fractions of a seconds. Very small fractions!  In that magic moment the photographer and the equipment become one: you must know the subject is approaching, you have to focus precisely at the moment he passes, and you have to trigger the shutter with precision.

Well…here I am waiting for Pogačar, between the grapevine rows totally obstructing my field of view, my eyes!  I couldn’t see  him coming.

Add to all this the tension of the moment. An individual time trial stage in the Tour de France lasts, for spectators, 4–5 hours, during which over 100 cyclists pass by at high speed, one after another. The order is reversed to the general classification before the stage, meaning the leader, the Yellow Jersey holder, rides last.

The stage usually unfolds under extreme heat, with little or no shade. The number and energy of spectators grows over time, reaching a peak at the final moment—when the leader comes.

Throughout the stage, the photographer tries various angles, compositions, and imagines different virtual scenarios to find the best position for a perfect shot of the Yellow Jersey. After 4–5 hours of this intense photographic effort in 35–40°C (95–104°F) heat, fatigue sets in. The pressure not to miss that shot—usually the most valuable one—is enormous.

In these conditions, choosing such a risky composition, subject to so many unpredictable variables, is almost insane—and it only adds to the tension.

So how did I actually do it?

During the passage of the last 15–20 cyclists, I decided this would be the shot for the Yellow Jersey. So I practiced different methods to take it as those cyclists passed. For focus and timing, I used a technique “borrowed” from colleagues who shoot Formula 1 races: you pre-focus on a specific spot on the road where the subject will pass, and then, when the subject hits that point, you try to press the shutter. Alternatively, you can shoot in burst mode starting a moment before they arrive at that point and continue slightly afterward. That way, one of the frames is likely to be correctly composed.

To make this work, you need to see the subject in advance to trigger the shutter at the right moment.

In my case, I was buried in the grapevine rows and could only see about one meter of road, directly in front of me. So how was I supposed to do it?

I realized there was a group of fans just before my location who would get very loud when a cyclist approached. So I started to time the delay between hearing their excitement and when I needed to press the shutter. In other words, my ears became critically important in capturing this photo.

With this method, I managed to get perfect shots of the last 4–5 cyclists before the leader. I was happy—I had my system. Pogačar was next. The excitement in the crowd was peaking, the heat was suffocating, I was trying to find the perfect position and stay alert, ears fully focused. And then—surprise! Suddenly, a deafening engine noise above me drowned out all surrounding sound. My auditory trigger system was ruined. It was a helicopter broadcasting live aerial footage.

What was I going to do?

I panicked and considered blindly firing in burst mode, hoping for luck. I started to think I would miss the shot.

Surprise again! After 2–3 minutes, the helicopter shifted slightly and the roar of the engines gave way just enough to hear the fans again. So in the final moments, I was able to reapply my shooting strategy. When Pogačar passed, I just pressed the shutter—no more time to think, everything had already been planned.

Only once I got home did I have the “courage” to look at the photos, and the joy was immense when I realized my plan had worked—I got the shot I had dreamed of, and now you can see it too.

Of course, such a shot could also be attempted using special sensors that detect the cyclist’s arrival, paired with a timer to trigger the shutter at the right moment. A super-technical method, but in such complex field conditions (crowd chaos, unpredictable path of the rider, high tension), it likely has no greater success rate than my fully human method. I will always choose the latter.

More cycling images on my website Procyclingimages.com