Guide to Spectating the Spring Classics

Well, as painful as it is, we've said goodbye to this year's Spring classics after last Sunday's Liège-Bastogne-Liège.  Overall, it was a good season, except for the Belgians who for the first time since 1918 didn't find themselves on the top step of the podium in a single contest.  While 2013 wasn't their year, it definitely brought better results for the old king of the Classics who proved he isn't planning on abdicating just yet.  Cancellera's destruction of Sagan on the Paterberg during Flanders and his superior performance during Paris-Roubaix were nothing short of spectacular and a pleasure to watch.  Nothing against Sagan, of course, but the young pup still has some things to learn.  No doubt he will be a major presence on the roads of northern Europe for years to come and we can expect great things.

The best race of the season?  That prize definitely goes to L'enfer du Nord.  From the dusty cobbles, to the unexpected shake ups, to the drama at the finish, the Queen of the Classics delivered just the kind of race we as fans love to watch.  Of course, in my opinion, La Doyenne is a close second.  There was just something grand about the way Garmin riders Hesjedal and Martin rode last Sunday.

The Classics have been and always will be my favorites to watch, and I am completely grateful to have had the chance to see many of them in person this year.  If given the chance to do so again, I will definitely take it.  Last Sunday we ran into another American couple who ended up watching LBL on the same corner in Bastogne as us.  It was their first race, just like LBL had been our first race last year.  Though they're based out of Germany, they hope to catch a few more races during their stint and were looking for some advice.  As we talked, I thought perhaps others may be interested in some of the tricks and tips we picked up this season.  So, here they are.

How you spectate all depends on how long you're in the area.  If you live local or have plenty of vacation time to make an extended stay, you can catch a lot of races.  If you only have time to catch one or two, you'll want to make the most of the experience.  If the race calendar stays the same, the weeks between the Ronde and Liège-Bastogne-Liège are the height of the season.  If you have that month to spend, you will get your fill of bike racing.  If you only have a week, then the Ardennes Classics are your best bet to see three races, Sunday to Sunday, without having to travel around too much.  Similarly, the week of the Ronde/Paris-Roubaix also contained the Scheldeprijs this year.  Of course, the calendar can change so keep an eye out for date announcements.  Ardennes week is less likely to change, but if cobbles are your preference some good planning can get you to more than one.

If you're going to stay for a week, look into vacation rentals instead of hotels.  There are tons of houses for rent in the Belgian Ardennes, and there are plenty of apartment options in places like Gent or Maastricht.  I'd avoid tourist infested Bruges as the rates are higher and the spaces are smaller.  If you get a rental you can bring your bike along and ride around the area during the week.  Rentals are much cheaper than hotels and usually have better amenities.  Buy food and cook in to save even more money.

Chasing works best for "straight" races
like Paris-Roubaix

Once you decide what you want to see, the next task is to determine how you want to watch.  There are a couple ways to watch a race.  You can either stay put in one spot or you can spend the day chasing the race.  I have not done the latter, but many people do.  If you only have a chance to see one race like Paris-Roubaix, this might be your best option.  Unlike the Ronde or Amstel Gold, Paris-Roubaix is mostly a straight shot from Compiègne to Roubaix.  Once they go by, that's it.  Chasing also works best with the "straight" routes because road closures will be easier to detour around.  However, if you do plan to chase all day, don't do it alone.  You will need a navigator in the car with you to plan around road closures.  You'll also want to remember that this is the most stressful way to watch a race.  If you aren't familiar with traffic patterns, the area, or the language, it will be even more stressful.  If you're not the type who works well under pressure, this may not be the best way to spend your time spectating.  Also, the excuse, "I'm chasing the bike race," isn't going to get you out of a speeding ticket.

If staying in one spot sounds more appealing, you'll probably want to make the most of that spot. Unless you speak Dutch or French, listening to a radio probably isn't going to be of much use.  So, if you want to be able to follow the race from your spot, having access to the internet or a television will be your best bet.  If you are able to get data access from your cellular provider, Twitter is the easiest source of race information as it isn't difficult to load.  However, 3G service is quite spotty in the countryside, so you may still be out of luck.

The best spots to watch a race have big TV's.  That way you won't miss any of the
action.

Many races have large TV's set up at popular spectator spots along the route, for example the Arenberg Forest for Paris-Roubaix and the Paterberg climb of the Ronde.  There should also be a TV at the finish of all the races.  The nice thing about these locations is that they also have other facilities,- food, drink, and Porto-Johns.  They also have the highest concentration of spectators, which makes for excellent people watching while you're waiting for the race to come through.  If you only have a chance to see one race, shoot for one that does multiple circuits of these areas.  My personal favorite spectating spot this year was the Paterberg during the Ronde.  That climb had all the necessary facilities for all day spectating.  Plus, there was a TV and plenty of company.  Besides the men's three laps of the climb, there was the women's race to enjoy as well.

To help in the spot choosing, check out the race's website in advance and print out the time table and course map.  These are good points of reference for keeping tracking of the timing on the day of the race.  You may also want to print out the team rosters with the bib numbers.  Studying the course maps ahead of time will also help in the logistical end of things.   If you're driving to the race, you will need to park your car off course for most of them.  Belgium has been thoroughly mapped with Google StreetView and we have found that to be an indispensable tool for locating parking and spectating options.  Once we have a few candidates, we jot down their GPS coordinates for use on the day.  It has been our experience in Europe that using street addresses is rarely accurate, but you rarely go wrong with coordinates.  Of course, having an old paper fashioned map on hand doesn't hurt either.

Ok, now that you have your spots located and the lodging/transportation sorted, what else do you need to know?

1.  Get there early.  The earlier you arrive on course, the closer you can park the car and the easier it is to choose a good spot to watch.  We arrived at dawn at a couple races, and while it can be a little boring it is rather nice to watch all the build-up before hand.  If you only have one chance to see a Classic, best to spend the whole day.

A cold sunrise in Flanders shouldn't be missed on race day.

Arctic attire is appropriate for the early season.

2.  The Spring Classics aren't comfortable races to spectate.  These races don't take place during the warm days of July in sunny France.  You will be cold; bundle up.  Keep in mind that you could spend hours standing still in the middle of nowhere, so thermal long underwear isn't a bad idea.  We also bring foot and handwarmers.  A thermos of hot tea will also come in handy, as will one of those paper cones of hot frites that are sold at certain points along the course.


3.  Bring your camera.  While you're not going to get the shots you see from the pros, you can still take pictures of the spectators or film a little video.  You will want to document the day, but don't worry so much about documenting the race itself.  Even if you are watching on a steep climb, they still go by fast and are tough to capture on camera on cloudy days.

4.  Don't bring your bike.  First of all, no one is interested in watching you attempt the Oude Kwaremont.  Trust me.  Secondly, if you fail you will be laughed at and more than one person will take a picture.  Don't do that to yourself.  Thirdly, even though it is race day, that won't stop someone from swiping your wheels when you're not looking.  If you want to ride your bike on the course come several days early when the road won't be lined with bored spectators.  If you insist on riding the day of the race, at least do everyone a favor and purchase a new, properly fitting kit.  No one wants to see that either.

5.  Don't be a jerk.  We're glad you're proud to be Flemish, or Australian, or German, or whatever.  I know how you feel, I'm proud to be American.  You're also welcome to support your countrymen in competition.  But, honestly, the giant flags really aren't necessary.  They make it hard for other people to see, and in the worst cases they have been known to get caught in race cars and the rider's bikes.  If you insist on displaying your national pride, at least do so respectfully and out of the way.  Everyone wants to be able to see, but there's no need to be pushy and rude.

Speaking of being respectful, while it may seem funny at the time to run along with the riders, no one else thinks it is and you're an idiot.  Same thing applies to those that slap the riders on the back as they go by.



6.  Pay attention.  Cars and riders will pass right along the edge of the roads and along the barriers.  More than one rider was felled by an oblivious spectator this season.  Don't be that person.  In addition, do what the police tell you to do.  The Flemish cops were the only ones we saw who seemed like they enjoyed being at the race.  The rest clearly wanted to be doing something else, and didn't take any crap from spectators.  Don't mess with them.

Happy cops aren't common at the races.  

7.  Leave the kids and pets at home, unless they're also fans.  Our dog doesn't have an ounce of cycling appreciation.  The only time he came along was when we didn't have another option.  He was cold and bored and clearly didn't see any reason for being there.  Many dogs don't like the noise, which is why some have been known to break their leads and run into the race.  If you do need to bring your dog, have them secured with two leads.  You don't want to get someone hurt, and you certainly don't want your dog to get hurt either.

Unlike these two, not all children are fans of bike racing.  If your's isn't, it may be best to wait for warmer races.

Children who aren't fans of cycling will also not understand the point of being there.  A summer race like the Tour de France may be a better fit since the weather is more pleasant and the caravan is far more entertaining.  Most of the children we saw at the Classics were diehard fans, probably more than their parents.  The ones that weren't looked pretty miserable.

8.  Relax.  Bring some chairs and some snacks and kick back to enjoy the day.  Just soak up the scene of the race, and don't worry so much about having the "perfect" experience.  With some good planning, you can have a great time.  Even if things don't go as the way you planned, just roll with it.  Enjoy yourself!

Get Up

There I was, laying half in the mud and half out.  The sky was particularly blue.  The river was high, but not too high.  It had been at some point, that was abundantly clear at this moment.  It sounded nice though, gushing healthily along the bank and over the rocks.  It was a nice day, such a nice day.  The freewheel was ticking forlornly on the other side of the trail.  This ride certainly didn't turn out the way I had hoped.

Time to get up.  We have to get up.

The day before, something terrible had happened back home.  Something that was supposed to be nothing more than a celebration of the human spirit was twisted into something evil, terror.  I can't go into the why, I don't think anyone will ever be able to.  Nothing can explain such a gratuitous act of cowardice.

Like so many, the attack left me reeling.  Those of us who participate in endurance sports, whether we cycle or run, are a community.  We all deal with the same struggles and we all, basically, have the same goals.  We want to finish.

Many of the athletes were denied that chance on Monday, many have a long road of recovery ahead if they want to run again.  Family, friends, passersby, and citizens of Boston were wounded or killed.  Lives have been destroyed.  A city is changed forever.  Our great country has yet another tragedy to recover from.

But, there's one thing I know.  This catastrophe will not defeat those 2013 Boston Marathon athletes and it will galvanize the running community, the endurance community in fact, to get up and keep going.  I know this because many of those runners on Monday who were able to finish kept running, right to the hospitals to donate their blood.  Blood from bodies that were exhausted, damaged, and pushed to their limits; bodies that needed their blood.  But, those incredible athletes gave it up to help others without hesitation.  That right there tells you something.  I also know a lot of runners.  In fact, I know more runners than non-runners.  One of those runners qualified for this year's Boston.  An injury kept him from going.  Thank God.  But, he's already declared that he'll do whatever it takes to come back from that injury so he can be there next year.  He won't be the only one, that is for sure.  In fact, I think we're going to see something remarkable over the next year.  Something tells me that running, while already a popular sport in the United States, is going to take off.  This tragedy will end up serving a purpose, it will inspire.  Guaranteed.

I took off on my bike Tuesday morning because I felt helpless.  A community that I care about, a community that so many of my loved ones belong to was attacked and was hurting.  It still is.  That bike ride was all I could do.  It seemed lame at the time to pedal east for 13.1 miles and then come back.  But, it's all I had.  It didn't turn out the way I had hoped.  Two miles from the end I was covered in dirt and a good amount of blood after falling victim to a slippery puddle of mud left over from the last flooding.

It turns out it wasn't the ride, it was getting back up, cleaning off the blood, bandaging the wounds, getting back on the bike, and pedaling home that mattered on Tuesday.  That is what I had to do.  It is my hope and belief that the legacy of Monday's tragedy will be the motivation for us all, athletes or not, to get up and keep going.

It's the very least we can do.

Roubaix Noir

Last Sunday was, of course, Paris-Roubaix, the Hell of the North.  Like every edition before it, the 2013 race was full of drama, brutality, and the unexpected.  The Arenberg forest is probably the most recognizable stretch of cobbles of the course.  While it appears early in the race and won't usually determine the winner, it will still do some serious damage to the peloton.  It's an old road.  Its famous cobbles were laid when Napoleon I was tromping around the area.  It was laid to service the mines lying below the surface of the forest.  The 1962 world champion, Jean Stablinski, who used to work in those mines, suggested the 2.4km stretch when the race organizers were looking for more challenging roads to spruce up the race course.  It's been a feature of Paris-Roubaix ever since it was added in 1968.    Over time it became the iconic image of the race.  A memorial to Stablinski stands at the southern end.

It's an interesting place, like no other road.  Anywhere.  I'm still at a loss on how to describe it in words.

So, instead I'll leave you with this, the only way I could really wrap my brain around it.

Trouée d'Arenberg from CG Inlux on Vimeo.

View from the Hill: A Day on the Paterberg

The moon is almost full and still sitting far above the horizon line.  The sun is on its way up, however, and that orange glow is starting to appear around the edges of the frost covered hills, pastures, and orchards.  The countryside is silent, except for a distant rooster announcing the start of the morning.  The cows are all still warm in their barns, but the lights are on and the farmers have been hard at work for some time.  The horses are out, wrapped up in their blankets and lazily munching hay while they keep one eye on those strangers walking up the road with their chairs, blankets, and warm beverages.

It's 6:30am and we're walking up the hallowed stones of the Paterberg climb.  It made it's first appearance in the great Ronde in 1986 and with the 2012 the route change, it is now the final climb of the monumental race.  More than likely, this is where the race will be determined.  Whoever makes it up first on the final lap will likely be one of the three guys on the podium.  That's thinking too far ahead at this point.  The sun has barely made an appearance.  That final climb won't be happening for another ten hours or so.

We're the first people here.  Arriving this early might be a little excessive, but this is probably the only chance we have for a little time in silence to take this place in.  Just us and the hill.

The barriers have been up and wrapped in their advertisements for a while.  The amateurs had their race yesterday, and standing here makes us wonder how things went for them at this point.  Who made it up?  Who didn't?  Who knows.

Movement is brewing on the hill.  A boy grinds the gears of his mountainbike ever so slowly up while his dad watches from below.  The guy who dropped off the Porto-Johns apparently had a bit of a mishap and there's a thick layer of blue ice covering the cobbles.  It's a precarious spot for walkers and mountainbikes.  The boy turns around and bombs back down to begin attempt number two.  The police are trickling in, a couple pause beneath the summit sign for a quick picture.  Next the support crew and TV crew begin to arrive.  Deep discussions in Flemish occur about camera and cable placement.  The caterers pull in and immediately get their truck stuck in the slippery grass.  They're followed by the paramedics and the satellite TV guy.  Everyone who pulls into the field gets stuck.  The paramedics in their bright yellow coats immediately jump into action, scurrying across the field to rescue the next victim of frozen dew.  Tires spin and paramedics push.  Some vehicles survive, others remain in the clutches of the field.

Spectators begin to arrive, ascending the pitch of the hill with varying paces.  They're joined by cyclists on road bikes and mountainbikes.  Some have the latest model others brought their teal steal ride purchased circa 1988.  Some are wearing mismatched kits from the same era.  You know, lycra gets a little threadbare in certain areas over time?  Not all of them are successful, usually tipping somewhere around the blue ice field.  But, as the sun climbs higher, the ice thaws and the ascents become more successful.  Steam pours out of the frite truck.  The rest of the police have arrived.  Their captain has the best goatee we've seen in a while.  They're divvying up their assignments.  Apparently an agreement has been made that reinforcements will be needed near the top of the climb and around the frite/TV/beer field.  Things could get a little crazy depending how the local favorites perform.

Meanwhile, there seems to be a problem with the satellite connection.  Either it is the TV guy's first day on the job or there's something wrong with the equipment.  He moves the dish a little to the left, then back to the right, then back to the left, and so on.  So far, no luck.

The hill begins to fill up.  Plastic glasses filled with Jupiler start getting handed out around 10:00am; it's never too early for pils on Ronde day.  Lion of Flanders flags, both official and separatist versions, start showing up.

It's still cold.  The temperatures aren't supposed to climb much higher than freezing.  Everyone is bundled.  We have hand and toe warmers stuck to the inside of gloves and shoes.  They're just keeping things bearable for the extremities.  Barely.  A warm paper cone of frites holds us over around 11:00am, one of those burgers you can only find in Belgium handles the afternoon.  A thermos of tea fills in the rest.  Sorry, it's just too cold for beer.

The hill begins to fill up, and that's when the real characters make their appearance.  Wacky costumes, decked out old folks, fan club regalia, and OPQS gear dot the hill side.  Normally all of this would cause a double take, but today is Ronde day and this is perfectly normal.

For now we are anticipating the arrival of the women.  Of course, no one has any idea how that race is going.  Even if they were giving updates on the television and one spoke Dutch, the television still isn't working.  A picture blips in for 5 seconds at a time and then cuts out again.  TV guy has been MIA since earlier this morning.  Every few minutes someone approaches the giant TV with an air of intent, as if they know exactly what the problem is and know exactly how to fix it.  Then, they see all the wires, dishes, and unidentified boxes and turn away in defeat.  A few people ask a passing cop if he can do anything.  He laughs.

Just after 1:30pm the familiar song of the pace car wafts up from below the hill.  The women are on their way.  In a split second we're going to be the only people who know what is going on with their race.  The greatest cyclist alive is competing to win her first Ronde, and only some people waiting for another race will know if she has a chance.

The women's peloton is shattered.  The Vos group storms up the hill at breakneck speed, but it's a bit of a wait for the next group to make their appearance.  Then, there's another group.  A lone rider trickles in here and there.  Those of us who are there cheer them on.  Why no one seems to care about women's racing in which a phenomenon like Vos competes is beyond belief.  These women are incredible.  But, the real crowds don't begin to show up until the ladies are long gone.  Those of us that are interested won't find out the results of their race for hours.

We wait a little longer.  The barriers fill up, even those that line the deep ditch on the other side of the road.  Before we know it, the motor bikes and official cars come flying through.  Then, the breakaway group arrives, charging up the hill.  There's no telling if they will be leading the second time they come around.  From the pace they've set they seem to hope so.  The peloton, mostly together at this point, is not too far behind.  The crowd goes insane.  The guy standing next me insists on leaning over the barrier to slap every guy on the back that happens to ride by within reach.  After Thor Hushovd gets the slap, another fan decides enough is enough and decides to explain spectating etiquette to Mr. Slaps, loudly.  Mr. Slaps leaves.  No more riders will be manhandled from this section of the Paterberg.

With the passing of the ambulance, we know we have another wait ahead.  All eyes are back to the TV, which has finally been repaired by the missing tech.  It turns out all he had to do was change the channel.  The clear picture was received with a huge round of applause.

The second pass has a new set of leaders, in various states of exhaustion.  The following peloton is much more fragmented than before.  There's a major slow down at the summit that causes all the team cars to come to a standstill.  The stragglers are forced to pass in the tight spot between the cars and the barriers.  Down on this section of the hill, the fans give them space.  These guys don't need anymore obstacles.

We all watch on the television as the final stage of the race begins to unfold.  Cancellera pulls ahead on his own, but Sagan is hot on his tail.  He wants Spartacus to do all the work, the crafty black sheep of the peloton will sit on his wheel happy to take the tow.  But, before long local favorite Jurgen Roelandts begins to chase the duo and before long it becomes a trio.  Ladies and gentlemen, here is your podium.  All that's left is to find out in which order they'll stand.  The crowd swells as those that spent the majority of the race somewhere drinking beer begin to take serious interest and push their way to the barriers.  We can barely see through the forest of waving arms.

They reach the base of the Paterberg together.  They pass our spot together.  But, not much further up the hill a gap begins to form between Cancellera's back wheel and the front wheel of Sagan.  The gap grows.  A motorbike slips in between.  Try as they might, they can't reel Cancellera back in.

It's done.

The rest of the peloton, now left in several bits all over the hill, is nearly forgotten by the crowd.  Everyone is focused on the man on the big screen as he solos away to take his second victory of De Ronde.  Sagan is handed second place by a spent Roelandts, and later on he thinks he's entitled to be handed something else.  But, the crowd on the Paterberg doesn't care about about that.  They're thrilled for the man that won, to see the King of the Classics making a comeback.  Horns honk, bells ring, and hands clap.

Then, everyone's heading back down the hill.  It seems only seconds for the once packed fields to be emptied.  The interviews play on the screen without an audience.  Those of us lagging behind finally find out the results of the women's race.  They couldn't be better.

It's time for us to leave now.  They're already tearing down the barriers, wrapping up cables, and disassembling signs.  The hill is almost empty, covered in discarded paper flags and plastic cups.

The Paterberg will go back to relative anonymity, except to those wanting to experience the course for themselves on their bikes throughout the year.  The only thing that hints at the glory of this climb are the little signs pointing the way for the De Ronde cycle route.  The Eddy Merckx route passes this way too.

As for us, it's been ten hours and a hot shower and a hot drink are in order.  But, despite our frozen fingers and toes we wouldn't have traded those ten hours for anything.  The Ronde is a race like no other.  It's not the Tour.  Flanders is a special place and the Ronde is a special race.  It's part of the identity of the country, it's a symbol of a cycling mad land.  The fans with their 10:00am beer and curry ketchup burgers are something else.  Their antics make us love cycling even more; if that were even possible.  Their passion for the local teams and riders is a beautiful thing.  Despite everything that cycling has been through, the drugs, the lies, and the fallen heros, the fans in Flanders still come out to hills like the Paterberg on Sundays in the Spring for the races.  They still lean over those barriers, they still analyze the ins and outs of the route, they still don their replica jerseys and wave their flags.

Spend tens hours on hill in Flanders during the Ronde and you will learn what we learned.  Cycling is still very much alive in these parts and it's not leaving anytime soon.  That, in my opinion, is pretty darn inspiring.


View from the Hill from CG Inlux on Vimeo.