Paris Roubaix Sportif 2008

The Pave at L'Arbe

A great aspect of our sport is that we can ride the hallowed ground ridden by the stars, very few football fans get to play at Wembley, but we can ride the classic courses any time we choose. (Or the Big Tour mountains)

When the 2008 Paris Roubaix professional road race was being run, my mind kept returning to my own visits to the Arenberg and my participation in the 2006 Paris Roubaix Cyclo Sportif.

Paris Roubaix 2006 was a ride that I had wanted to undertake for years and to cycle it was a dream come true, and this year I return to ride it again. Below is my story of that 2006 ride and those 28 cobblestoned sectors.

The Arenberg Forest - more pics

Glistening menace (June 2006)
Nothing, and I mean nothing can prepare you for Paris Roubaix.

The initial road sections beguile you into a false sense of calm, but when you hit your first pave your world is turned upside down, and inside out.

The pave stretches ahead of you and in our case, glistening silver sharp metal teeth in the sunshine. You are going to be it's meal and the beast is hungry.

Your arms explode and your first reaction is to slow down, this just means it gets worse and the lesson you quickly learn is that too much speed hurts so very much, and too little means it hurts and you grind to a halt.

My fingers and knuckles burn and you constantly shift hand positions to offer relief, this offers short respite, but nothing makes the hurt go away.

The down hill sections of pave are the worst. Gripping the levers seems to be a direct line to the pave.

Unless you are full of confidence to leave the brakes alone. You apply the brakes in the knowledge that your hands are now in a static (rigid) position, and the shocks travel through your extended fingers like lightning strikes.

The professional riders take the least path of resistance and I followed suit

To ride down the centre of the Arenberg Forest or Carrefour pave is madness if I were to complete the course, so I didn't. I pride myself that I learnt how to ride the pave and how to spot grass verges and 'smooth' sections (smooth being a relative term) that might offer relief.

My bike was perfect, although there is road normal tight and then there is pave tight, after my first section I had to tighten my bars and saddle. Other than that it didn't miss a beat.

All sections of pave showed signs of human presence, punctures tyres, water bottles (100s of them) and water bottle cages lay in amongst the cobbles. You could make a small fortune if you were to scavenge across the battle field.

Melancholy
I'm no military buff, but I have enough history in me to understand the melancholic nature of the Picardy and Nord Calaise area of northern France.

World War One battle sites such as Arras, Cambrai, Vimey Ridge and the Somme line our route to Compiegne, and the start of the 2006 Paris Roubaix.

We pass battlefields and cemeteries at speed, the distance passes by in minutes, over the same land that millions died trying to crawl a few metres over 90 years ago.

Far from a smooth ride - more pics

Somme
The battle of the Somme, which began in 1916 saw the biggest loss of life in one cataclysmic day in British military history, and after almost a year's fighting over a million men lay dead. Compiegne Forest also holds great significance being the spot where the WW1 armistice was signed in a rail car. Some forty years later Hitler took the same rail car out of a museum and forced the French to sign their surrender there in World War two.

In modern Europe sport is often seen as a metaphor for war (some may argue that the 'USA' sees war as a metaphor for sport). The battalions of fans at the Football World Cup in national colours would seem to bear this out. In my view, if there is a sporting event that reflects this metaphor well, it must be the Paris Roubaix Professional cycle race because the race we know today found its essence in the aftermath of war.

Held in April as part of a clutch of 'classic' races the mystique surrounding the race has seen it develop into the 'Prince of Races'.

The race goes back to 1896 and was held in various formats until 1915 when World War One broke out. One of many prewar stars to die in the war was Octave Lapizge (winner in 1909/10/11) and this connection between the race and the suffering of war had begun. Henri Pelissier won the the first post war race in 1919.

This area of Northern France in 1919 was a scene of devastation - few trees remained, roads were smashed, villages wiped off the map, towns layed waste and mass impromptu graves sign-posted the scenes of battle.

Nonetheless the farmers had to work the land, using the many agricultural tracks that weaved through the war torn landscape and it was on these routes that the race flowed. Few were in good shape and the sheer effort needed to ride them marked the race as being different from others. Love it or hate, few riders come in the space between. If you can ride the Pave, then you probably love it but if not, then it's the worst ride in the World.

Development saw much of the Pave tarmac over, but this has been stopped and whole stretches are now National French Monuments and protected.

Pave
The Pave begins at Troivilles 97 kilometres from the start and although harsh this section merely hints at the key sections ahead. The race teams will work hard to put their likely winners in a good position for the Arenberg Forest at 160km's, a place where the race cannot be won but can be lost, before hitting the Pave after Cysoing where the evil Pave at Carrefour lurks amongst a number of stretches that sees the race selection made.

Cyclo-Sportif
I have always wanted to ride the Cyclo Sportif after reading an article over twenty years ago. Why hadn't I ridden it? Fear brought on by the mystic of hardship or just lack of time? Both, would be the answer, but the 2006 edition called out to me.

Held every two years the Cyclo Sportif draws 3,000 riders of all shapes and sizes from across Europe, including American's, the far east, Australia and New Zealand.

The route is fully route marked and a number of check points offer points of reference on route.

The Pave hurts - more pics

The ride
I spent months preparing my bike and I felt confident of the ride ahead. We had settled on riding the shorter route of 110 kilometres that took in the 'best' bits, just 5 kilometres from this start is the Arenberg Forest. This would have seen us ride the most infamous sections of Pave, whilst allowing us time to take pictures and hopefully catch all the Brit's entering the Velodrome at Roubaix.

BUT. Prior to dropping off Scott Bugden's (Our tour leader) group at Compeigne we suffered a puncture to the coach. This took almost an hour to fix. Things got worse when the same wheel blew 20 kilometres short of the medium ride start at Bohain-En-Vermandois with all 48 kilometres of Pave to face and 172k in total.

We could have surrendered at this point, but our pluck was up and we set off leaving Pete the coach driver to sort out the coach. Would he be at the finish?

Riding with a group we soon reached the start and with our number and details over 100k down the road we left the others to sign on. As we were leaving Scott and group arrived. We all indulged in a bit of gallows humour as he waved us away.

We rode out in a wave of French and Italians, but we had a game plan and we were not going to deviate from it. With a Paris Roubaix under his belt, Scott had told us to ride at our own pace and take lots of short rests. Magnus Backstedt had also told us to rest on the roads and then concentrate hard on the Pave. Thus we let group after group slide past us, using their draft whilst we could. We made sure that every pedal turn counted and refused to raise our pace on the hills.

We simply flew along the roads being careful to follow the signs and not other riders, we were going to be close to our physical limits as it was without adding extra kilometres. It was great riding, the sun was shining, the locals were friendly and encouraging ('Allez'), and the many riders strung out along the road was a great sight, and then 'hell' broke out.

Hell begins
A marshal in a yellow jacket turned us off the road and onto the Pave at Troisvelles, my wheels slammed into each block of pave with a curse, and it got worse as we quickly went down hill. The shock was almost overwhelming.

Thankfully something clicked in my brain and I 'zoned' myself into the art of pave riding. I relaxed my body as best I could riding with the shocks and I stopped fighting them. More Pave followed in quick succession and with them came confidence.

A quick stop to rest and cool down, and soon I was back on the bike, just 40k of Pave to go!

Unlike the often cold April setting of the race we 'enjoyed' very hot weather and the Pave acted like solar panels creating a cauldron of heat. Many riders just kept hammering out the kilometres whilst we found shade and water after the longer stretches. This held us in good stead, for whilst others suffered greatly, we did well in the heat.

When we finally reached Raismes and the start of the short ride, we were told that we were 10 minutes too late to sign on. Our entry papers being on route to Roubaix (too efficient!).

We met up with Scott and party, plus Malcolm Putman of Willesden CC, Malcolm was suffering from hot feet. Scott told us that they had gone off course and that James Holland Leader (Agiskoviner.com) had broken his forks after crashing. Thankfully there was plenty of help available and James was able to get a lift to the velodrome. Scott had broken a seat post and again he was able to get a spare from another rider's helper.

None of us at this time had suffered a puncture unlike our coach, we all chuckled - to laugh might use up too much energy.

Action from the 2008 race from the Arenberg - Pics by Chris Wallis

Best bit
We bade our farewells and someone remarked that now the hard bit began. Oh hell, we all thought and a silence took hold. 'But it's also the best bit', someone chirped up, and that made me feel better.

The route would now run over the most infamous sections, sections that the focus of the race and its mystique had been built on. Bring it on, I said to myself, not wanting to seem too gung ho.

Raismes is an old mining town and it showed signs of better times. Monuments celebrated the mining industry in an area that had been pivotal in France's move toward being an industrial nation.

You know you are near the Arenberg when you see the now defunct but complete mining wheels and buildings that rise out of the Forest. We debated whether we should take a look, but decide to forgo that pleasure and turned straight into the forest.

Taking pictures had gone by the way side, but how could we not take a picture of ourselves in this 'holy' place of cycling?

The Pave in the forest was 'mended' in the previous months after the tunnel beneath collapsed. Repaired is not a word that comes to mind as the Arenberg cobbles are more like a rock garden. I rode a few metres and quickly went into survival mode and rode on the grass strip (that required skill and concentration as well) for most of it. When I did ride it the bike was on a rodeo trip with the chain slapping wildly on the stays. It was simply a crazy act that I couldn't afford to play out.

By now I think had got the hand of riding the pave, some sections were hard, but not so hard too make your brain burst and the knack was to do what the pro's do and that is to concentrate, look 50 metres up the pave spotting bits of tarmac, mud filled sections or grass strips on the side. Some gutters were safe to ride, although many held hidden dangers. Thus you are forever on the look for a smoother ride, popping from one good bit to another, (reducing the pave kilometre count a wee bit each time) and because you concentrate so much you are through and relieved to hit tarmac, that is unless another section follows almost instantly and that can strip away a layer of morale.

Most of the time you try to ride on the centre brow and there are others who want to do the same, in the busy sections I had to make myself wide and not allow anyone to move me into the rough stuff. There was never any unpleasantness but I had to make my presence felt.

Too sweet
Along the course the check points had offered points of reference and food. After stop two I heard a plaintive English voice crying out for something savoury, on offer were tables full of cakes and chocolate. It was nice at first, but now I hated the sight of French fancies.

Almost, and I say this with a sense of what might have been, the stop at Beuvry La Forest had fresh apples and sandwiches! Not needing our card to be stamped we at first decided to not stop here. With my eternal thanks to unknown powers we did visit the stop and stuffed ourselves. It was quintessential moment and bucked up our morale to an all time high. We knew Carrefour was to come, but we didn't care!

The race by now would have seen a winning group form and after Cysoing (227km) the five deep crowds would be in wait, held at bay by barriers that although keeping the spectators off the course would mean that the riders have no choice than to ride the hard, hard pave. Beginning with Pave Duclos Lassalle (960m) (he won the race many times for France in recent times), following onto Paves de Luchin et du Quenelet (1800m), Pave de la Justice (1800m) and then the almighty Pave de Luchin et du Carrefor de l'Arbe. (2120m)

2008 race action - Sirotti pics

Carrefour
I was sorely tested as they came in quick succession, allowing little time to recover. Carrefour was on a different planet, the pave jutted out at angry angles like dragon's teeth and I bottled out.

I rode on the very rough tarmac gutter denied to the Tom Boonen and the like. It is here that I finally understood the mystic of the race. It's a stupid race, so much a lottery and so very hard, who would want to ride it? Who could?

Cycling is a sport of folklore and magic moments. Mount Ventoux, Alpe d'Huez, Old Kwaremont, Kemmelberg, Muur, The Poggio and Paris Roubaix, are open to us all to ride for wage or sporting fun.

We can follow the same paths and when I dug into finish at Carrefour I knew I was doing much the same as many professionals who had made a similar decision to finish.

L'Arbe
My best moment came here, I just went for it. I began by riding in the grassy gutter before moving to the centre of the pave I held onto the centre of the bars and just went into a special zone in my head, my reward was to ride up to the Cafe l'Arbe and have the assembled crowd shout bravo as I went passed and onto the road painted with Boonen-Boonen-Boonen. At race time this section is swarming with thousands, but my more modest acclaim was just as welcome.

It would have been nice to have had a drink at the cafe, but three more sections of Pave remained and 14 kilometres to Roubaix.

The run in was simple enough and we were soon in Roubaix, round each turn we hoped to see the Velodrome and it was here that the stop-starting at traffic lights finally got to my riding partner. Andrea Hofling had never ridden so far in her life and had ridden the toughest ride in the World with humour and no complaint, but those lights saw her begin to crack and I spent the last kilometres urging her on. There was never any doubt we would finish, but nonetheless this was one of our hardest moments.

The final pave in Roubaix is a carpet ride and as we swung into the velodrome we felt awesome. All the tiredness flowed away crossing the line hand in hand. Perfect!

Afterward we were given food and drink, and we found the now repaired coach before venturing off to the notorious Roubaix showers, I had expected cold water and I got a stream of very hot. I felt a bit cheated, Eddy Merckx had said that it was always cold by the time he got to them.

The concentration and attention to detail required to ride Paris Roubaix makes it special and even now two weeks later I can't stop thinking about it.

Look out for my Paris Roubaix bike feature - do tell us if you are riding and something about your prep.