If I never take another cycle racing photo again I will be happy.
The Paterberg, Tour of Flanders. The final climb where Fabian Cancellara attacks Peter Sagan to break away and win the race.
At the very second I pressed the shutter.
The only thing the camera cannot show is the relative speeds. Look in Sagan’s face – he knows.
A full report on a brilliant day out to follow, but I just had to share.
Almost prepared for the highlight of my Belgian cycling life so far. We are off to join the crowds at The Tour of Flanders, De Ronde Van Vlaanderen – one of the greatest of cycling days. Time to pick a winner from Sagan, Cancellara and Boonen like all the other armchair pundits before we set off to see them on the Paterberg, our vantage point of choice.
My father arrived off the Eurostar on Wednesday and since then we have been preparing hard.
We have ridden some cobbles and hills, we have watched some TV and we have studied the appropriate training materials.
We have even done some special hill climb training. (256 steps of the Lion Monument at Waterloo battlefield to be precise – special low gear effort that one)
But most important of all we have talked cycling for three days solid. I mean after all, we aren’t riding, we are just going to watch!
The blizzard was the worst of the year. Holed up inside watching the wind scoop the snow into weird shapes in the garden with all the roads around us impassable. Belgian travel chaos even made the international news, the boss is stuck in Paris etc. etc.
I may have mentioned that I am over snow.
But the effect of the snow drifts was to alter the shape of the countryside around us a remove certainty underfoot. Most of the roads and tracks are sunk some distance below the surrounding fields which means they were like magnets to the snow drifts and impassable to traffic, not something common in Western Europe in March, or rather not historically normal. Who knows with the changes in our weather systems.
This photo is our road, about 500 metres from the house. No, not the line running left to right, that is a track. The dark line heading up to the hill is a one metre high verge. It hasn’t been passed by a single vehicle all day.
So we staggered about late afternoon, falling down holes and watching the dog almost swimming in powder snow. Great fun. But it can stop now. Personally I’d like to see a daffodil flower. That would be nice.
It is with enormous trepidation that I announce I am going to go for a bike ride with a local cycling club tomorrow.
It is one of the greatest failings of cycling as a social activity that jumping this barrier is a nerve-wracking experience even for someone like me who has been riding in clubs all my life. I have had some of the best cycling experiences ever and great friendship from my long term clubs Godric Cycling Club, Durham University CC, Cardiff Ajax and Reading Cycling Club but each time the first ride was a big step.
If I feel like this today then I know why people can own a sports road or mountain bike for their whole lives and never hook up with a club. Both they and the clubs miss out so often.
A quick examination of my symptoms please doctor:
Will I be able to keep up?
Will my bike fall apart?
If they leave me will I have a clue where I am?
I don’t climb too badly for a bigger lad, but my descending is pretty rusty at the moment – that could be embarrassing.
I’ve never really had a bad first ride on any of these counts, but I have a deeply repressed memory of something odd happening on one of my first club rides in Cardiff. Can’t even remember the details but one of my creative repairs revealed itself during a ride and as I did a patch up by the roadside I could see the eye rolling going on in the background. “We’ve got a right one here” they hinted to each other. I could easily have become one of so many one-timers who never returned instead of enjoying many more years of riding and club life because many do have a really unwelcoming first experience.
Rugby was my other sport for years and despite being a complicated, physical sport it handles this sort of thing so much better. It has the advantage of taking place at a fixed location but the most important welcome to new starters used to be “the fourth team”. (Replace with 5th, 6th, 7th team as appropriate). Can’t run, can’t catch, don’t know the rules and have a long distance relationship with anything called fitness? We’ll give you a run out in the 4ths and see how you get on under the avuncular support of an almost retired older player with a gammy leg and a deaf ear. Everyone plays because a proper 4th team has any number of players between 9 and 17, except the required 15. A proper 4th team is like the boxes of reject broken biscuits we used to love as kids. All shapes and sizes and only occasionally you turn up a complete custard crème, but its the mix that counts. And when you return to the clubhouse the 4th team creates its own legends of the bar. In short, a place for everyone.
This is the biggest argument out for entry level cycling groups in every town in the world.
Back to the matter in hand.
Tomorrow I am going out with the local Belgian cycling club.
This throws up a whole new set of challenges. At least in the UK I know the stock formula for most clubs is a Sunday ride – 60 miles with a coffee stop for most road clubs and maybe shorter distances with elevenses and lunch for the CTC groups.
Here club cycling seems to follows the French model. A racing club is just that, a club focussed on competition with a supporting network of ex-riders and officials. A cycle touring club looks to all intents and purposes exactly the same – club colours, quality road bikes, helmets and a calendar of events but the purpose is to ride together as groups and not to compete. So I reckon they fill the gap that I am looking for – strong-ish riders but not going to rip my legs off, like a club run or a faster CTC group in the UK.
Connection to my most local club has already failed because they are mainly interested in touring events – this weekend they are driving out to events both days. Sounds great, 100km including the legendary Mur de Gammont today but I actually want to learn about this area first and I certainly don’t want to give up 2 hours cycling time to sit in a car. So I’ll save that for another day, tomorrow I’ll try plan B with another club.
Checklist:
- I have found where they start
- My bike is scruffy but unlikely to be a laughing stock
- I can do the distance
- I have a domestic pass out
So it is time to get a grip Mayne ……. But they are Belgian, born to be hard cyclists. But my conversational French is awful. And what if I fall off on the cobbles, and what if they ……..
Couldn’t work out why this is so frustrating for me but doesn’t seem to bother anyone else here.
Then as I wobbled back home through the slush and the blowing flakes tonight I realised. List of wants. Dry bum, dry feet, warm face, stable road surfaces……..and more covered bike sheds in Belgium.
30 years of work. 3 years as a student. 7 years cycling to school. Not once have I travelled anywhere where I had to leave my bike outside daily. The dear old UK might be Europe’s cycling dunce but I must have struck lucky with our legacy of bike sheds, some of them probably dating back to the 1960s or even earlier in the case of at least one factory bike shed I can recall.
I mean those saddle covers I see at the bike parks are awfully naff, but now I know why they are so popular everywhere else in Europe and its not just for advertising SRAM.
One of the pleasures of being out in the snow today was to see the many wheel tracks in the snow that indicated that several local clubs must have taken to mountain bikes for the morning.
This provided my comedy sequence of the day.
I was perhaps 300 metres away across the fields from some farm buildings when I heard a commotion – dogs barking, people yelling. When I looked back I saw a nice compact group of about a dozen riders just heading towards the buildings. They ducked out of site briefly and I got out my camera hoping that I might get a good image of riders against the snow when they came out.
Instead there was a further commotion and two groups going absolutely flat out shot along the track with one man suspended in between. I clicked off a couple of shots rather in hope because it was clear the blowing snow and their determination to race away meant they would be rather hazy. It was only as I took the camera from my eye that I spotted a further shape behind the final group which explained the split.
I have no idea how far the angry pooch followed them, but he was still going well when I lost them in the haze. Only doing his job I suppose, but I was awfully glad I had turned short of his territory. I don’t think I would have got away as quickly as the group I was watching and I would have been a much easier target.
I am just so over snow. Sorry if I am spoiled by comparison to some readers who are in Canada or eastern or northern Europe. But just at the beginning of the week there was a moment when I thought spring might be coming.
After a week without much ice and snow on the ground I was treating myself to a 3 hour road ride this morning. At last a chance to ride skinny tyres and a lightweight frame.
So I woke up to this. This was forecast as light flurries.
My wife is beginning to ask questions too. “I thought you promised me the weather here was just like the UK?” My response that it is snowing across the whole of northern Europe is beginning to come across as a bit lame. But Belgian colleagues are promising me this is a cold one this year.
My only chance is was to go back to the mountain bike. If the best bike riders in the world could not start the Kuurne-Brussels-Kuurne semi-classic today I am certainly not safe on these roads.
I mean I love mountain biking and there is a fantastic network of tracks round here. But time is up.
We were pottering about last weekend trying to learn a bit more about our new home area, Brabant Wallon (Walloon Brabant in English) and we ended up in the pretty town of Ittre.
It is a small and charming rural town with a long history back to the time of the Romans and an impressive chateau which disappointingly has private grounds.
But one of its main claims to fame is that it is the recognised geographical centre of Belgium, for which it has a pair of grinding stones topped by this proud marker right in front of the town hall.
However there is a catch. Sometime around 1990 the geographical institute noticed that they hadn’t updated the official geographic centre since 1919 when the German speaking communes of Belgium were added to the east of the country.
And dear Ittre discovered that it had been living on false pretences for nearly seventy years and the centre was moved. However the monument seems to have puffed out its chest and decided to carry on regardless and nobody is going to challenge civic pride by demolishing it. So Belgium has retained two geographic centres, the sort of compromise that makes this country work.
As I was riding through the forest on my way to work earlier this week another rider swept on to the path from a side track about 50 yards ahead of me. As I normally have this track to myself I was immediately interested and I did the quick cyclist’s snapshot of man and bike. Looks like a rigid mountain bike, he is in cycling clothes but not full on racing gear, woolly hat not helmet and a backpack no doubt containing clothes or work.
Pretty much like me in fact.
As he turned the next bend and began to drag up into the trees he briefly looked back and I knew he was making exactly the same audit of this unexpected cyclist behind him. And then he sent out a signal. He hunched forward and pedalled harder.
A challenge! The hundred and fifty year old sign that says “Don’t catch me”, a signal between stupid men conditioned to think because we ride bikes it is some sort of competitive act.
Guilty as charged your honour. 50 years spent around racing cyclists takes over and of course I do exactly the same thing to see if I can catch him and within seconds we are both dashing along the tracks at massively higher speeds than is sensible for the time of day, the terrain and in my case my body. And had you been an observer you would have noted that both were trying to maintain a pose that says “Trying? Oh not really, I’m only riding to work”
For about ten minutes the distance fluctuated between 30 and 50 metres, me climbing a bit faster but him pulling away on the flat, neither of us changing pace or style. I was just so desperately relieved when he turned off though, honours even.
Why – why do I do that? I spent the rest of the day desperate for a quiet nap somewhere. It would have been so much better if it had worked out like most of the rest of my time so far in Belgium. I see another cyclist, they ride off, I watch. I keep convincing myself that all those people passing me at apparent high speed are actually refugees from Belgian cycle racing culture and they just commute on upright bikes in day clothes so I shouldn’t be upset that I can’t keep up. It really amazes me how well those ex-top racers can disguise themselves as little old ladies on shopping bikes, quite remarkable.
Will I ever learn? Probably not I am afraid. Sorry to all those who believe that Middle Aged Men in Lycra (MAMILS) are the death of daily cycling, I am who I am, I just need a few slower Belgians to keep me company.
This gallery contains 5 photos.
Beginning to explore our part of Belgium we wondered up to the Solvay Park near La Hulpe yesterday. A beautiful spot with the landscaped grounds surrounded by woodland. However what really struck us was when snow started to fall from … Continue reading
A great research titbit from the ever excellent Bike Portland made me realise now is the time to share my Bike to Work problem. “Cycling Commuters are happiest” whizzed round Twitter last week.
Graph of “commute well-being” from a presentation poster by Oliver Smith, Portland State University
This is exaggerated by the fact that those most likely to moan about cyclists are the least happy – lone car drivers. Great for the promotion of cycling and we all knew it really, didn’t we? (And does it confirm the stereotype that all cyclists are just that little bit smug about their transport choice!)
But currently I am not happy with my bike to work. I am seeking a special set of conditions that make my ride “Just so”.
The scene is set by my first week of living in Belgium. I realise that in the ECF office as in much of Europe I am also a much rarer beast than in the UK, while I am a daily cyclist I also have roots in sport, most of my colleagues here are largely transport cyclists and while the daily commute is a great thing to do (and thereby should make them happier) it is just a commute, to be done as efficiently and quickly as possible. One of my colleagues expressed her confusion about my travelling habits because on my second week after moving I rode 24km to the office, appearing as a sweaty mess and heading off to the local gym for a shower. “But” she said, “you have just paid for your season ticket on the train, why ride all that way?”
Automatically I gave her the same answer I have been giving for nearly 20 years. “Oh, it keeps me fit, keeps my weight down and it sets me up for going out with a local cycling club when I get a bit fitter”.
But in in hindsight I realise that my stock answer just isn’t true anymore. While I value the fitness what I miss more than anything else what I need is a ride where I can settle to a steady rhythm and then completely disengage my brain from the process of riding. Over 10 years of my last commuting route in England there were numerous occasions when I would arrive at the work bike sheds and realise that I had no recollection whatsoever of the last hour.
What happened in that missing hour was like a piece of mental magic. I sort, order, conjure and create until the most difficult of problems began to rearrange themselves into manageable form. So many presentations, speeches, projects and problems sorted themselves during those rides that I rely on those moments for my mental wellbeing. And the reverse is true, without the necessary therapeutic hour my mind becomes crowded and even my sleep can be interrupted by the competing threads.
My trusty commuting bike is also built to meet these objectives. Recovered from scrap the Giant Granite is a rigid mountain bike frame with drop bars added for road riding and my favoured Schwalbe Marathon Plus tyres so I am never going to be troubled by punctures. But neither am I going to be troubled by the need for speed, add a couple of full panniers and I slow myself down enough to ensure I don’t get to work too quickly. (Oh and by the way it is deliberately ugly, dirty and distressed to deter thieves – honest)
There is all sorts of medical evidence that exercise reduces stress and people who walk and cycle to work arrive more productive and alert, I am sure I am getting the benefit of all those things on my ride. But I can get many of those by riding the 5km to the station too or on a weekend ride. What matters on my long commute is that the riding itself is completely automatic for just the right period of time.
So why I am not happy with my Belgian ride yet? The distance is about right – I can finesse the route to get my favoured 90 minutes and fitness will certainly come, there are five hills of varying sizes which I can charge up if I want to. And it has the makings of a great combination. First 8km on quiet country roads while the traffic volumes are low. Then into Foret de Soignes where I have about 9km on forest tracks and car free service roads before the final 7km is a zigzag though the southern suburbs Watermael-Boitsfort and Etterbeek to the EU district at Schumann.
I have a horrible feeling that this ride is just too diverse. I have to think too much. When I get to Brussels I am not yet confident enough to ride without full concentration. The forest tracks are actually in excellent condition but not enough to relax during periods of falling leaves, rain, snow and ice. I am begging for a dry spell when I can try just cruising.
Just maybe the conditions, travelling away and spells of illness mean I am just being too impatient, I haven’t done the ride enough to make it automatic, to switch off completely. Maybe a bit of route fettling will see me right, but something has to give. Wouldn’t it be a cruel irony if I have got myself this beautiful route and I find myself heading back to the typical horrible cycle lanes by the main road so I can create the cycle commute I need for my well-being?
Let’s end with a reminder of how great it could be ……… I live in hope.
My sort of new discovery this year has been the Belgian passion for cyclocross – or perhaps I should say what I have discovered is live cyclocross on the TV and the extensive coverage of the results in the mainstream media, even pushing back the all consuming monster that is football. (Cyclocross tab below to see other posts)
I can’t help but feel sorry for the organisers is this week’s World Championships in Louisville Kentucky. First time in the 43 years of the championship that they have left Europe. US Cycling is in desperate need of a lift after the nightmares of Armstrong and cyclocross is quietly growing as a new branch of the sport so it could be a real celebration of the sport for them.
So how about this for the news:
Louisville, KY – February 1, 2013. Forecast data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) project that high water levels in the Ohio River will cause Beargrass Creek to flood the low lying areas of Eva Bandman Park in Louisville, Ky, in the early hours on Sunday morning and that water level will continue to rise for the next 48 hours.
That is such a shame for the organisers, now they are relying on a special barrier and moving everything to today, Saturday.
Having seen Niels Albert, Sven Nys and the rest compete in mud so deep they couldn’t ride and on ice that put even the best on their backsides I have a sneaking suspicion that they could and would ride in snorkels and flippers if asked. My money would be on Albert, he’s the tallest.
The sort of good news is that Belgian TV will now show all four events on the one day – about four hours of coverage. Bad news for me is that I’m going to have to improvise – today is the day my other sporting passion kicks off – Rugby’s 6 Nations tournament also involves lots of blokes thrashing about in the mud but as I posted last year only at the very end of the series does it begin to overlap with cycling. Having to make such choices this early in the year really is unfair!
UCI’s live Youtube feed should do it, then I can capture both as I did for Milan San Remo last year.
Oh well, it does mean lots of time to get the ironing done.
Here’s a “life in Belgium” post about something that has me completely confused.
Tonight we have our second partial power cut.
This means that some lights go out, most, but not all of the plugs. But the lights that have gone off are not completely off, they are glowing intermittently.
Outside it is the same. One side of our street and the associated street lamps are in darkness for about a 100 metre length while the other side of the road appears untouched.
We are speculating that one of our neighbours is pulling such an enormous load off the grid they are draining all our juice, perhaps running a dope factory on overdrive because of the cold or drilling for oil under the cellar. I have a degree in physics which doesn’t make me an electrical engineer but I do know this isn’t normal.
Minus 7 tonight and the central heating is off too.
Answers on a postcard…………………
Ever since the entry of mountain bikes into mainstream cycling they have offered a new dimension to winter riding – snow riding!
When the roads are downright dangerous the chance to escape across the fields or ride on untreated minor roads with extra grip and wide handlebars is great fun.
Where I am now living in Belgium we have a fantastic network of paths, farm tracks, cobbled roads and minor lanes so I couldn’t resist getting out today for what seemed like my first longer ride in ages. The snow actually flattens out the cobbles to some extent which is great.
And a real treat today. There is nothing like a sign at the edge of a field that just points out to the middle that beckons and says “ride me”. And in this case it was on pristine snow with only the footprints of rabbits and foxes. The snow was really soft which made it hard going but I thoroughly enjoyed it.
A year ago I wrote my first blog post, a New Year’s resolution to give blogging a chance.
A grand total of three people viewed it, all of whom were undoubtedly family members.
A year later I can hardly believe how much pleasure I have got from the process and how much I have learned about writing and taking photographs for other people to read. I had intended to write about cycling but it has been a lot of fun to add some diversions into food and travel.
Thanks to everyone for reading, for commenting and for just generally being polite enough to take an interest in my posts. And above all else thanks to the cyclists I have met across the world who have been such an inspiration. I genuinely do not despair every time we meet.
And because your favourites seem to be the bike rides and photos I can use my twelve month anniversary to share a few images from my annual reaffirmation of my cycling credentials, the New Year’s Day Ride. A few more readers this time!
This year’s was a solo. My wife and I walked our dog for a couple of hours in the wind and rain this morning, predicting that this was going to be the best we would get for the day.
However just after lunch the clouds cleared and a dazzling winter sun broke through which encouraged me to keep up my tradition that the year hasn’t started until the first ride. And just as in the last few rides it was a temptation to wander and take in the lanes around my new home in Belgium.
Today I didn’t set out for a specific destination so the significant memory today is just light. Fierce, glaring, reflecting off the roads and lighting up the buildings. At times I could have done with sunglasses and I was almost worried about the effect it could have on drivers. I have heard rather too many excuses about being dazzled at the scene of serious accidents to entirely relax when even I cannot see properly. However the drivers today were few and far between which made it very relaxing.
So I was able to enjoy the sunlit village green at Ceroux, the extraordinary sunlight off the roads and the beautiful avenue of trees above at Ruart. The avenue reminded me of the art of David Hockney which I enjoyed so much in April, I am sure he would have made much of it.
And the riding itself was great, a stiff wind but I deliberately took my trusty winter road bike so I could enjoy spinning lighter wheels and narrow tyres up and around the rolling landscape. It’s a survivor this one, every time I have a new year plan to throw it out somehow it survives another twelve months. £75 for the frame about twelve years ago, the seatpin and chainset stuck solid, the frame rusting in places. But it is always comfortable and familiar and I can ride it across winter roads without a care. Just what I needed.
Happy New Year to all.
I Do Not Despair 