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Ajay's Tour of Flanders
Belgium the home of racing, the Tour of
Flanders, the best Classics race in the world? The most popular
cycloportif version is 140km with 6700ft of climbing and covers the same
climbs as the pros the next day. The entire cost was £79 Eurostar return
and £100 for race entry, two nights board, lodging and cherry Kriek beer.
It was a vintage start, after years of inappropriate sunshine, this year
was back to the original mould. After half an hour it started raining
diagonally and the sky turned black. I was dressed for summer in shorts
and a jersey. I wore my Rapha ‘Aubisque’ jersey in memory of that
Pyrenean monster from 2005, my Team World Gillet (event organisers) and my
Addiscombe race gloves and socks (the Spiritual home of cycling). No
overshoes. No arm warmers or leg warmers. If I get cold I could always
ride faster I reasoned. The rain did not let up and riders huddled under
bus shelters and shop fronts. What did they expect? This was a Belgian
Classic in April, not Disneyworld. No central heating or slippers here.
Local riders like Van Petegem looked like they had not seen the inside of
a house; I imagined him wandering untethered in a wind-swept field.. Even
his name sounded like something to be mined from a rock quarry.
To understand the Classics it is worth
reflecting on the words of the novelist racer Tim Krabbe who says
The greater the suffering, the greater the
pleasure. That is nature’s payback to riders for the homage they pay her
by suffering. Velvet pillows, safari parks, sunglasses; people have become
woolly mice. They still have bodies that can walk for five days and four
nights through a desert of snow, without food, but they accept praise for
having taken a one-hour bicycle ride. ‘Good for you’. Instead of
expressing their gratitude for the rain by getting wet, people walk around
with umbrellas. Nature is an old lady with few friends these days, and
those who wish to make use of her charms, she rewards passionately
The hail made me ride harder and I found
myself at the front of a group of one hundred riders. I missed the sharp
right turn and suddenly found myself at the back again! Has Tom Boonen
ever made the same mistake? I don’t think so. The dreaded cobbles of the
first climb, my first taste the Mollenberg (a mere 9.8%) I was reduced to
walking and slipping along as I lost my traction and couldn’t remount.
Truly heroic riders were brave enough to power through the middle. This is
one for David Lombari I thought – but would be prepared to risk
scratching his resprayed bike, maybe not? What skill to stay upright with
the rain and the crowds. The cobbles are not like the pretty street
decorations you see in Charlwood when you smile to your fellow riders, ‘Paris
Roubaix !’. No – these are medieval cobbles that stick out at all
angles like fists to punch you through the Belgian earth. Between these
stone knuckles are gaps through which run rivulets of water and air. The
cobbles give the earth a brutal and pock-marked nature.
The Mollenberg is the first of 15 climbs.
Mark Mc warned me to ride on 25 mm wide tyres and ride with the pressure
down; but Peter the mechanic at GBs – who has ridden Flanders three
times in the dry – told me he has done it on Michelen Race Pros with no
punctures. So here I am on 23 mm with 120 pressure. I am a human hammer
striking the hail-drenched cobbles. I try riding along the drains on the
side of the cobbles through the brown rain water and through the brambles.
Anything to stay off those cobbles even for a second.
The flat cobbles are far worse than the
climbs. I try and keep some speed up with riders who appear to be just
driving through the cobbles. This is hard, full of pain. However you hold
the bars, tight or loose, it wrenches your joints from their sockets. I
can’t believe how painful this is. I decide not to stop at the first
food stop as its still wet and there is a long queue. After scrabbling up
the feared Koppenberg (that’s was the preferred way of the pro peloton
on Sunday as well) I pull up and talk to two local women selling soft
drinks from a table in front of their house. They warn me, ‘Its just the
beginning’ and when I ask them for a weather forecast for the rest of
the day they say, ’30 degrees.’ Another Belgian chips in, ‘That’s
fifteen in the morning and fifteen in the evening.’ Belgian humour.
Around the corner on a descent I can but
resist pulling up for a barbeque and enjoy a bratwurst as the sun finally
comes out and I can warm my body; our organiser (6 ft 6” Dutchman Johan
from Team World) goes by and then Bayeux Landscapes (Martin, Sean and
Martin) who were part of the Etape team of 2005. I get back on the bike
and my appreciation for the local cuisine is increasing by the moment and
I pull in a local valley I stop at the local bakery for the last slice of
Tart Rijs a lovely fluffy pastry and my team mates Tsune (Japan), Mark
(Australia) and Martin (Islington CC) pull up to enjoy the food. The
clouds are gathering and so I accelerate away with the cake eaten and it’s
like the cloud is following us.
I don’t want to get wet again so I push
forward once again. I hear a voice from nowhere, ‘What’s the
Addiscombe doing here?’ Its John Leitch who has organised race training
sessions in the past and with whom I’ve ridden the Rhone De Picardie
with. I try and drop him on the descents which I’m fast on, and just
when I think I’ve shaken him, I hear a voice in my ear and he carries on
the conversation! He says ‘I thought you’d given up riding !’ ‘I’m
back’, I say, and just to demonstrate dig in and produce another
acceleration. I pull up with my Team world Team to the last food stop with
35 km to go and two climbs, the Muur and the Bossberg.
My diesel has cooled but by the time I
approach the Muur I am warm again and I know this climb as I rode it the
night before. Only, the night before I was a bit surprised at the steepest
section, and had to face the dishonour of walking and watching a mountain
biker sail past. This time I knew what to expect so I paced myself
perfectly, and when I got to the 20 % section – about 100 yards long and
8 yards wide - I let out a big lion roar to the crowd-lined streets and
got a roar back as I accelerated and a gentle push as I appeared to come
to halt around the corner again! That section was my emotional equivalent
of getting over the Aubisque at full tilt.
Satisfied I kept my speed up over the next
climb at the Bossberg and finished alongside my team mates Martin and
Tsune. I thoroughly recommend it and it would be great to see a large
Addiscombe contingent represented next year. The weekend was completed by
watching the race on the Muur on the Sunday and cheering on the women’s
race (Nicole Cooke was riding strongly) and watching Boonenmania in full
swing as he came past with ‘Lifer’ to win and the local Flandrian
crowd get satisfaction. Lastly I must mention local race DS Toks who made
international journey possible through his contacts in the global cycling
fraternity.
Ajay.
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