The start of Pavé de Gruson (3)
A bend on the pavé of Willems á Hem (2)
Iconic campervans line a side section near sector 5
At the turn after Carrefour de l'arbre
The start of Pavé de Gruson (3)
Shimano received a bit of heckling!
The lead Junior Men coming through
Paris Roubaix.
The Hell of the North.
L’enfer Du Nord.
The race has many names, and unsurprisingly many characters – both riders and cobbled sectors alike. And the Belgians. I truly think the Belgians make this French race the race that I saw today.
Ok, we know riders animate the race, especially the breakaways. And it was cracking to see Adam *Super Shiny Shoes* Blythe up there for such a long way today.
We’ve also see Tom Boonen stay away in this race over an incredible distance (sadly not taking part today).
But. The Belgians. Seriously just awesome. They give the build up something a lot of races lack. Is it their own panache? Or gumption? Or is it the sheer fact they are here to have an amazing time, and aren’t afraid to let you know it.
I had a double puncture in Chéreng today (huge thanks to Ron who actually showed me how to fix them quickly and easily!!). But after that we headed over the cobbles of Sector 3 – surpringly they felt a lot easier to ride today! Then straight for Carrefour de l’arbre. You know. The 5* sector of pavé I’ve been banging on about on twitter the last two days. I asked Ron if he (speedy gonzalez compared to me) would mind me going in front. Not a problem.
And yes. I loved every knackering bone shaking second of it. Even managing to laugh at the camera that filmed me motoring around one of the corners (and zoomed in on my trainers with a muttered ‘Merde!’) < Did I spell that right?!
We rode up to sector 5, which by comparison looked smooth as a babies bottom (not that I've ever seen one, but you know what I mean!). Then doubled back to ride 4 again. This time getting heckled by 2 lots of friendly Belgians – and damn doesn't it make you feel good!!
Only an hour later did I realise my arms ached. And yes @ClaireR_81 I had one miniscule blister!!
We were lucky they had a big screen at the end of Carrefour de l'arbre. And settled in there to watch the gruelling race. Gutting to see riders going down like dominoes. And most of all (as he's my fellow countryman!) poor Geraint Thomas. 2 punctures and a nasty crash that saw him eventually get dropped.
It was obvious that the cross winds, attacks and possibly #TrainGate (was the train driver a former Shimano employee!?!) had blown the race apart way before the severely fractured peleton arrived on our section of dusty cobbles.
But it was still a race in progress as they passed us, seeing the grit of teeth covered in a brown film as the riders tried desperately to stay off the worst cobbles. Ironically the cleanest rider I saw appeared to be Luke Rowe!
They were past in dribs and drabs, and I was really pleased to see Shane Archbold (@Theflyingmullet) had disentangled himself from an overly long embrace with the cobbles, that had left blood running down his nose.
Then they were gone. Broom wagon finally appeared. We said goodbye to Jon Baines (lovely to see you hun!) and headed back through the mad crowds to the hotel.
Luckily I managed to draft behind a car going over sector 3, before we blasted past it on the road the other side. Whilst trying to weave through people all over the road. Plenty of 'Excusé Moi' 🙂 Then we went past two groups of mad drunk Belgians (I'm not sure if they heckled me or propositioned me!!!)
The easiest way back was over sector 2. Which was blessedly empty apart from one group who cheered us as we went through. Plenty of 'Hup hup.. oooo… hup…. ooooo…. hup hup…. yeah!!!'
(Yes that was me sliding around the potholes on the cobbles!)
A few passing words with the Hot Chilli lot, and that was us done!
It's been quite simply, epically brilliant. Why do cobbles have a something that actually secretly or pubically *make* you want to ride them again? I loved every second. Even on my poor Trek Lexa who really isn't built for that.
Oh and I didn't drop my chain once!
#keepsmiling
Obviously I’m not doing the sportive like @editorsfoot and @JCoxy1. But I have come over to France to watch the iconic race.
The idea was first floated around in January, but the only person that seemed keen was Ron Southern.
So a plan was formed: he’d bring his van and we would take the bikes through the Euro Tunnel.
I duly found a hotel in Hem. Little did I realise until last week that it’s pretty much on the race route!
Finally the 11th April dawns, after I’ve seen all the statuses/tweets from the others off to do the sportive yesterday, I’m finally ready to go. And it duly heaves down with rain all day until just after we arrive at Hem. Where we see most of the Corley Cycles group ride up to the roundabout next to the hotel.
A quick trip out for food, and I spot Decathlon where I then ‘splash out’ on a pair of black B’Twin legwarmers after seeing the forecast is a bit chilly in the morning, and a black Elite carbon bottle cage (it was cheap!!!).
Back at the hotel we decide on a quick outing on the bikes as it’s dried up and the sun is out. I faff wondering what to wear – finally settling on my Garmin kit – jersey and bibs. I tried the legwarmers on and @tomstaniford will be pleased to know they fit!!
I had a quick mosey at where to go on Google Maps and decided we should be within reach of Section 4. So off we headed toward Forest-sur-Marque on the D952. The off onto the Rue de Tressin towards Tressin, through there and out to Chéreng. A decision to go south to Gruson was rewarded by a crossroad of very smooth topped lumpy cobbles and the ubiquitous Belgian fans in campers. A quick check of the map or two and we we suddenly right in front of Section 3 (labelled Pavé de l’Arbre on the map next to Gruson).
A pair of English guys on their bikes offered to take our photo (supremely cheesy grins!!) as we posed LOL!!
Then we decided to ride it. You know. Just to see how far it went. And to see if we could get to Section 4. The 5* rated pavé that’s described as worse than Arenberg this year.
Bearing in mind this is the very first time I’ve ridden on proper cobbles…
We set off, riding 2 upsides bouncing around a bit before Ron got ahead, telling me to ride on the crown of the road. I duly followed him and this is all I can describe:
Jouncing around with no let up, everything wobbling and vibrating, handlebars like 12 racehorses pulling in every direction at once. The feeling that you MUST NOT let go. You MUST NOT stop. Shades bouncing around so much you cannot actually see, the unrelenting rattling banging of my poor aliminum bike with the chain bouncing up and down like it’s demon possessed. The thought of ‘Maybe I should’ve worn gloves,’ followed by the fact that I *AM* wearing gloves. The manic grin and the giggle as two walkers stop to look. It’s quite frankly amazing and as much as I want it to stop. To long for smooth roads. I know nothing will ever quite beat this. Then 2 little turns and I’m off the cobbles with the stupidest smile ever on my face. Feeling sky high. And ridiculously unfit!
Ron and the two that took our cheesy picture laugh at me and ask if I’m ok. Of course!!
Then we ride it back again. The way the sportive rode it today. The way the race will go tomorrow. And once again, it’s epic beyond imagination
THIS IS WHY I RIDE MY BIKE.
We mutually agree to ride the signposted route back to the hotel, knowing we hit sector 2 somewhere along the line.
Then we do and Ron hares off. I keep my own pace, quickly realising this section is NOTHING like the easy smooth bobbling of Sector 3. This is rough. And potholed. And all I want to do is let go of the bars, or change a gear or get out of the saddle or something. Something to stop the bone racking crashing up and down. So I pull onto the side and ride in the dust. Hating every second of it. So back to the cobbles I go. Trying to steer around the holes and craters that line the way with these so called rocks that some errant joker calls cobbles. There’s nothing to hold them together and wheels attempt escape down every crack and cranny to only find brief purchase on dusty field grit before they spin ever onward in spasmodic jerks as I attempt to keep my bike in a straight line. There is no ‘crown’ of the road on this section. No slightly raised, marginally smoother part. This is rough. I pull over and take a quick photo, which unwittingly turns out to be rather good. Then I find myself laughing. I’m truly enjoying this. I pedal onwards. Trainers slipping, chain vainly attempting to get itself off and throw me in a muddy ditch. Finally I think I see Ron. Only I’m not sure because I just can’t see straight. I realise he’s got a camera. But I’m smiling anyway. Because this is good. Because this is why I ride my bike…
#keepsmiling
thelonelycyclist 