Hubs and Spokes

Ever since my first trip overseas in late 1989, I have always loved travelling in Europe. I am enthralled by the architecture, the art, the countrysides, the myriad cultural complexities within such tight geography. Since I am a road cycling enthusiast, Europe has held another fascination for me: the world of professional cycling.

For many North Americans, it was a certain Texan with huge talent, a Lone-Star sized ego, and a large dose of performance-enhancing mean-spiritedness who brought road cycling into their world. Still, it was Europe where Lance Armstrong (and American Greg Lemond back in the 1980's) really got rolling and where all pro cyclists first earn their name and reputation. It is also where the biggest stars enjoy the most fame and it has been this way since the invention of the bicycle. Nowhere is this love more intense or more obsessive than in Belgium. The Italians (pioneers in today's standard road bike technology) will protest loudly. The French will likely go on strike. Fine. Belgium has cycling woven deep into its cultural fabric, and it courses through their collective bloodstream. Nowhere is this more pronounced than in Flanders. Weekdays and weekends, in rain, mud, brutal and biting cold winds, on pavement  or on the cobbles, you see Flandrians out riding. They can be solo or on group rides with their local teammates; or, like most Belgians, just heading to work or some other destination. After all, it's only rain.

Cobblestone lanes wind lazily through the Flanders countryside connecting quaint towns and pretty villages; during a race, however, these cute paths become treacherous, often separating winners from painfully scraped and, quite often, broken competition. Many of these routes are as famous and pivotal to the sport of cycling as Wimbledon, Daytona, or the Montreal Forum (RIP) are to tennis, racing and hockey. The cobbled hills (bergs) are legendary and during Spring Classic season (March to mid April) the biggest crowds gather to cheer their heroes upward. Paddestraat (above), Oude - or old - Kwaremont (below), The Paterberg, The Kemmelberg, The Koppenberg; these scary beasts, while not nearly as long still evoke the same reverence as the high mountains of the Tour de France. Try walking up one on a rainy, muddy day and then imagine racing up 4 or more on skinny wheels, jostling for position with 150+ cyclists riding flat out at up to 45km/h for hours in the wet and wind.

 

The world's greatest professional cyclist by far is the Belgian legend, Eddy Merckx. He won 525 major races between this late 1960's and '70's. If you count all of Lance Armstrong's premier wins (even those recently stricken from the record), they tally below 100. In addition to his wins in all major Tours, Merckx won countless Classics titles, including the daddy of them all, the Ronde van Vlaanderen, or Tour of Flanders. More recently, Belgian heroes include Tom Boonen, who is arguably the biggest star, along with local lads Stijn Devolder, Sep Vanmarcke, Stijn Vandenbergh and others. Tom was injured in a recent crash and while I'm sorry for his injury, I'm selfishly bummed he is not racing while I'm in Belgium. Nicknamed Spartacus, another local favourite is Fabian Cancellara, a human piston. In Canadian terms, these cycling stars are Belgium's Crosby, Stamkos, Voracek, Price and Ovechkin. Cancellara is Swiss but the respect he has earned on the cobbles in East and West Flanders gives him honorary citizenship in Flanders; so large is his reputation there is actually a room (a shrine, really) dedicated to him in the Ronde Van Vlaanderen Museum in Oudenaarde. According to the proprietor of my hotel just outside town, Cancellara has the determination and sensibility of a Flandrian. Sadly, he broke two vertebrae last Friday on the cobbles of Flanders (I took the photo below of him - and his custom-painted bicycle - merely two hours before that fateful moment). His 2015 Classics campaign - indeed, most of his season - is thrown into doubt. So it goes in professional road cycling - and on the cobbles. 

What about Canadians in the pro peloton? Until recently, Steve Bauer, the Canadian powerhouse from the 1980s was our most decorated hero. More recently, Victoria's Ryder Hesjedal (yes, Ryder....his name is the Joe Strummer of cycling) won the 2012 Giro de Italia (Tour of Italy), a 3 week stage race many believe is harder to win than the Tour de France. He is the only Canadian to ever win a Grand Tour, a massive feat of skill and endurance that most Tim Hortons drinkers missed, unaware and therefore unable to appreciate its difficulty - and prestige. Langley's Svein Tuft rides for Australia's Orica Greenedge team. A real 'hard man' of the pro peloton, he always finishes even the toughest races. More famous souls will quit when in a 'spot of bother' but Tuft will rarely, if ever, 'abandon'. He is a brilliant time trialist, and if it were not for a flat tire near the finish in 2008, he would have won the World Championship. Still, he took silver. Again, a huge yet all but invisible win for Canada. Other top Canadian pros include Tuft's teammate Christian Meier, French Team Ag2r's Hugo Houle, the bearded guy below - note tiny Canadian flag on the top tube by his right knee (he shook my hand prior to the race 'E3 Harelbeke' upon learning I was from Vancouver), and Team Europcar's Antoine Duchesne. And we cannot leave out the great careers of women pros like Clara Hughes and the Canadian legend Alyson Sydor, as we focus on up and comers like Leah Kirchmann and Joelle Numainville. Unfortunately, like the men their herculean efforts are rarely, if ever, celebrated in Canadian media. Which takes me back to why I came to Belgium.

The culture around cycling here runs very deep. It was wonderful to witness one woman, easily in her late '60', all geared out in her rain booties, logo'd jersey, tights, shorts and arm warmers, riding a very light and very expensive road bike tackling the cobbled climbs with her husband and their local club. Until I experienced first hand last week's horrendous weather, cold and wet that no hot shower could thaw, I really had little appreciation of just how dedicated and resilient Belgian cycling fans really are. They will happily suffer for hours in awful weather just to cheer on their favourites who whizz by in a split second and are gone. They then gather in local pubs, cafes and community halls to watch the rest of the race on the big screen, quaffing sponsored beer in branded glasses, debating the merits of such and such rider or team, eyes glued to massive screens. It may be about the teams and cyclists and the media which extols - or eviscerates - them, but it all revolves around the fans, exemplified by the 2 cute Belgians below. They know.

Belgian cycling culture: like their beer, it is strong and impossible to resist.