The best poster for the Spring races?

Behold: the Man with the Hammer brought to life.  The translation is "The course knows no mercy."

Welcome to racing in Belgium!

The Rik van Steenbergen Classic

Once again Springtime approaches and with it appear the flahutes, the tough men of the Low Countries, and the fans congregate on the narrow roads beneath the leaden skies of Belgium to watch their heroes and the air is redolent with frites and beer and rain or dust or both. There are brutal climbs to conquer and nasty cobblestones that bite in these races where, unlike the famous Grand Tours, you only have a single day to become a legend. And amongst Belgium's cycling legends, near the very top, one finds the name of Rik van Steenbergen.

 Born in Arendonk in 1924 into a poor family, he worked as an errand boy and a cigar-roller and began racing at 14. During World War II he blossomed into one of Belgium's top juniors and then after turning pro in 1942 he won the Tour of Flanders in 1944 and again in 1946. His palmarès impress: three times Road World Champion; double wins at Paris-Roubaix and La Flèche Wallonne; victory at Paris-Brussels; at Milan-San Remo; 40 Six Day Races won; 15 stages wins at the Giro; four wins at the Tour de France; six stages of the Vuelta—and these are only the major victories. It is estimated that in his career, which ended in 1966, he won nearly 1,000 races. A sprinter, he was challenged by climbs but still managed a second place overall at the Giro d'Italia in 1951. It is said that if he had concentrated on stage races rather then enter every race he could find he would have had even greater success but perhaps that ignores the economic conditions of post-war Belgium and reflects the small earnings of even the best pro cyclists.

Post-retirement Rik van Steenbergen (left) with Peter Post, 1967

Life after racing was hard for the man they called “Rik I” and he adjusted poorly. Troubled by a gambling addiction and other vices he spent time in prison. At one point he even starred in an adult film before stabilizing his life with the help of his English wife. He died in Antwerp in 2003, aged 78.

To honour this great cyclist, a race was established in 1991 in the area where he grew up and trained. The GP Rik van Steenbergen, later named the Memorial Rik van Steenbergen, gained in importance and became a UCI 1.1 event in 2005. Past winners have included Mario Cipollini, Tom Steels, Andrei Tchmil, Tom Steels, Tom Boonen, and Greg Van Avermaet. Theo Bos was the last victor, taking the win in 2012 for Rabobank. Since then race organizers have been unable to raise sufficient sponsorship and the Memorial Rik van Steenbergen is in danger of becoming a mere memory itself.

A series of amateur cycling events are organized every year in Belgium by Proximus Cycling and in years past there was a Rik van Steenbergen Classic, giving riders the opportunity to ride the same roads that Rik I rode as well as retracing the path of those competing in the Memorial. It began in the same town as the Memorial, Aartselaar, located a short distance south of Antwerp and last year I was joined by my friend Bernd who was willing to drive on a scorching hot day (quite unlike what you will find at the Spring Classics!) to the start.

Bernd meets Belgian cobblestones!

 

Registration with Proximus is easy and inexpensive, with most events costing 8-10 Euros, and we found ourselves checking in at a big sports centre on the outskirts of town. It was no problem to find our way following the purple arrows Proximus puts up everywhere (and reuses for each event in the caldendar) and soon we were rolling through the Flemish countryside, joined from time to time by other riders but usually enjoying the trip by ourselves.

I will not exaggerate the attractiveness of the landscape. Much of Flanders is board-flat but the occasional monotony of the route was broken up by long sections alongside canals and detours through interesting and ancient small towns, with narrow cobbled streets and impressive churches. Buildings were brick and solid and everything had an intimate feel: it was if you were just cycling around your neighbourhood.  Although my neighbourhood does not offer gigantic greenhouses producing eggplant!

The route was not terribly challenging, with only 462 m of climbing during a ride of 120 kms, but that was fitting since van Steenbergen was a sprinter, after all. The road takes one south past Rumst and over the Rupel River before heading southeast towards Mechelen along the Dilje. The road continues straight and then a turn to the east takes you up the sole hill of note at Km. 54.7. Proximus offers refreshment at each 40 kms or so of the ride and we were looking forward to the next break. Gradually the loop takes you north again and at Km 98 the next refreshment stop beckoned: the Ordal mineral water plant in Ranst! After relaxing in the cool warehouse and sampling many of the company's refreshing products we only had another 20 kms of riding ahead of us to bring us back to Aartselaar.

No medals, no timekeeping, no jerseys. It was a simple enjoyable day riding in Flanders, where nobody looks at you strangely for riding a racing bicycle and wanting to pretend you are Rik I in his glory days.

Rik van Steenbergen monument in Arendonk

Proximus Cycling Challenge offers an extensive calendar of events and begins 2015 with its own version of the Omloop Het Nieuwsblad on Saturday, February 28, followed by Dwars door Vlaanderen on March 20 and its Gent-Wevelgem on March 27. Ride lengths are 30, 50, 80 or 110 kms and while the number of rides has gone up from 12 to 14 over seven months the Rik van Steenbergen Classic is not among them in 2015. But if you find yourself in Belgium with a bike and a yearning to be part of the legend just sign up!

Proximus Cycling Challenge can be found at http://wfl.proximuscyclingchallenge.be/

Book Review: the Shattered Peloton

A hundred years ago today on Sunday, June 28, 1914, 145 cyclists rolled out of Paris for the 12^th edition of the Tour de France.  The race was already an established sporting event and national icon and fans look forward to the competition, which featured seven previous winners (in addition to four future winners).  On the same day 1800 kms to the southeast in Sarajevo the heir-presumptive to the Austro-Hungarian throne, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and his wife died by the hand of an assassin.  Two days after the Tour ended on July 26 back in Paris, Austro-Hungary, unsatisfied with the response to its ultimatum, launched an invasion of Serbia.  The bike race to end all bike races thus had a strange coincidental overlap with what was to become the launching of the War to End All Wars.  In his new book, “the Shattered Peloton,” Graham Healy has provided an unusual perspective during this centenary year marking the start of World War I—what was its effect on professional bike racing?

This seems like a question of laughably little consequence and the book is poorly served by its subtitle: “The Devastating Impact of World War I on the Tour de France.”  The number of professional cyclists was very small and the comparative handful who died in the war (32 Tour de France participants) pale beside the huge number of casualties, totalling an estimated 17 million military and civilian deaths and 23 million wounded.  In the cases of France, Germany and Austria-Hungary more than 4% of the total population perished. However, the book is to be recommended for telling the stories of some of those cyclists (not all of them Tour de France riders either) and their terrible experiences in battle, experiences that would have been duplicated in the thousands by soldiers from other jobs and professions and social classes.  What we really see is “The Devastating Impact of World War I on Everyone.”  The war devastated Europe (nicely described in the account of the first Paris-Roubaix after hostilities ended) but not really the Tour, which was restarted, admittedly with some difficulty,  a mere seven months after the Armistice.

June 28, 1914: the Grand Depart!

The book begins by describing that 1914 Tour in some detail and one has a good flavour of the chaotic happenings that made the race so interesting,  In the end Philippe Thys of Belgium would go on to win the overall for the second time.  Interesting details included the unspecified abuse apparently suffered by two Australian riders and an enthusiastic crowd so enamoured of Henri Pélissier that in their enthusiasm they blocked their countryman’s way and ruined any chance of him winning.  The chapter is interspersed with some diplomatic history about what was happening as political events moved forward in European capitals but these have an add-on feel, breaking the Tour narrative up.  There are a number of instances in the book where the narrative takes detours unrelated to the central subject, such as the enlistment of sportsmen who were famous for other things, such as football/rugby/tennis/piano player pilot Roland Garros or boxer Georges Carpentier.

 

 

The founder of the Tour de France, Henri Desgrange, wrote an editorial (in red ink!) in l’Auto calling, in what to us is astonishingly jingoistic language, for Frenchmen to enlist in the war to defeat “the evil imbeciles” from Germany.  Desgrange himself enlisted in 1917, at age 50, and even spent some time at the front. 

 

It is well-known that three Tour de France winners died in the war.  The popular 1909 victor François Faber of Luxembourg joined the Foreign Legion and died in the Battle of Artois in May 1915; Octave Lapize, winner in 1910, died in aerial combat in July 1917 and in December of the same year two-time winner (1907/08) Lucien Petit-Breton, who was serving as a military driver, was killed in a car crash.  Each of these riders receives a full chapter treatment, divided into an account of their cycling history (which in all cases is quite well-known) and their wartime exploits, unfamiliar to most cycling fans.

Lucien Petit-Breton, ready to race

Even more interesting are the accounts of the riders who rode in the Tour and did not place particularly highly or even finish.  One rider named Emile Engel, a friend of Fabre, was banned from the 1914 Tour by Desgrange, who by all accounts was a thorough martinet, for arguing with a commissionaire and was to die at the First Battle of the Marne in September that year.  Many of these riders are obscure but their fates nevertheless received compassionate treatment from the author.  It is sad to read of so many of these brave young men being chewed up by the great war machine in numbers that would seem incredible.

Emile Engel, left, and Francois Fabre

Some of the stories amply illustrate the confusion and stupidity of events.  Paul Deman, the first Tour of Flanders winner and three-time Tour de France participant, carried messages for the Belgians by bicycle during the war and was caught by the Germans.  Sentence to die, the execution was not carried out as the Armistice intervened.  British soldiers took over and unable to tell the difference between Flemish and German imagined Deman to be a German spy and planned his execution before a timely letter from Belgian authorities saved his life.

On June 29, 1919, a day after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles and five years and a day after the start of the previous race, the first post-war Tour de France took place.  The author writes:” The effect that the First World War had on professional cycling was immense.”  But the fact that it started again so soon after hostilities and that a new generation of riders  had appeared—many of those who died, such as Fabre, Lapize and Petit-Breton were already no longer competitive when the war began—belies this statement. 

This is not a book for reading about the origins of World War I in detail (“The Sleepwalkers,” a blockbuster by historian Christopher Clark is that book) and some of the general research is a bit doubtful (Roland Garros, for example, is wrongly described as the developer of tractor propellers for fighter aircraft). But as a view of the war taken from an unusual angle and focusing on the lives of those involved moving from being suddenly transformed from celebrated sports figures to common soldiers (no officers here) the book Is well worth reading in this year when we can expect a great wave of Great War-themed publications.  On that early Sunday morning in 1914 in Paris the world was a different place. The Tour de France may have been merely postponed for four years but the real and terrible effect of the war on a human scale is told here with pity and with affection.

 

 

The Shattered Peloton: The Devastating Impact of World War I on the Tour de France

By Graham Healy

221 pp., ill., paperback, Breakaway Books, 2014

ISBN 978-1-62124-011-2

Suggested price: US$14.95

Bent Arrow: de Brabantse Pijl Challenge 2014

Saturday, April 12: the day before the Paris-Roubaix professional race amateurs had an opportunity to ride the storied cobbles themselves during the Paris-Roubaix Challenge Sportive.  But for those not willing to publicly display their pavé riding ineptitude, on the same day to the east another sportive mirroring a pro course provided an opportunity to publicly display one’s climbing ineptitude.  So of course I had to I had to do the two hour drive from Düsseldorf to Belgium to experience the 2014 Brabanste Pijl Wielertoeristen.

While not nearly as old as Paris-Roubaix, which dates back to 1896, de Brabantse Pijl (the Brabant Arrow), also known by its French name of La Flèche Brabançonne, has had many famous winners since its inaugural edition in 1961.  In fact the first winner, Belgian Pino Cerami (who is still with us at 91) won the 1960 edition of Paris-Roubaix and eventually went on to become the oldest winner of a Tour de France stage at 41 in 1963.  There is even a GP Pino Cerami held every year  since 1964 in Belgium; it was won by Alessandro Petacchi this year (also on April 12).  But the rolls of the Brabant Arrow offer many famous victors:  Tour de France winners Jan Janssen and Eddy Merckx;  Mr. Roubaix Roger de Vlaeminck; sprint legend Freddy Maertens; double Flanders winner Edwig Van Hooydonck (who won the Arrow four times); triple Flanders and triple Roubaix victor Johan Museeuw; triple World Road Champion Oscar Freire (three Arrow wins too), along with some guys named Boogerd, Chavanel, Bartoli and Sagan.  In 2011 Philippe Gilbert became the only rider to win all the Hilly Classics (Amstel  Gold, the Fleche Wallone, Liege-Bastogne-Liege) plus the Arrow in one year.  Categorized as a UCI 1.0 race since 2011, it is pretty important.  But I wasn’t riding that race but instead an event five days prior.

Proximus Cycling Challenges manages a series of 12 Belgian events for amateurs spread over eight months.  These “Wielerstochten” include versions of  the Scheldeprijs, the Omloop Het Nieuwsblad and Gent-Wevelgem, among others.  Entry is a reasonable 10 Euros, with feed stations included, route signage and, well, not much else.   There is the promise that some retired pros will show up and apparently on Saturday these included Johan Museeuw, Nick Nuyens, Ludo Dierckxsens and current cyclo-cross racer Niels Albert but they weren’t there when I arrived at 7:15 to sign in at the start in the old university town of Leuven, 25 kms east of Brussels.  In fact, most of the organizers had not shown up either as the ride was scheduled to start at 7:30 and there were no signs anywhere.   But cleverly obeying the Follow-Someone-Else-With-Bikes-on-the-Car-Roof Rule I soon enough found my way to the impressive Ladeuzeplein , Leuven’s major square which is overlooked by the huge old university library.

A moment to check in and given a wristband for the feed stations (no numbers or pins to mess with) and I was on my way through the streets of the city, founded in the 9^th Century and featuring many beautiful 15^th Century buildings typical of Flanders.  In fact, the city is the capital of Flemish Brabant, a region that came about in 1995 when the province of Brabant (which has a long and headache-inducingly  complex history) split into three parts: the Flemish one, the Walloon (French-speaking one) and the Brussels autonomous region.  The Arrow goes into both Flemish and Francophone areas.

There were not many riders at this time of morning as the start was open until 10 am and the majority of cyclists were probably doing the shorter 72 km route rather than the 131 kms I was aiming at.  It was easy to get out of Leuven, which only has a population of 100,000, and follow the purple arrow signs showing the way west towards Bertem.  The loop heads south and then east of Leuven before working its way back and while it covers sections the pro race will take the fast guys will head more southwest in a straight line—hence the “Arrow” name.

The organizers thoughtfully provide a list of the hills and feed stations that you can stick on your toptube, giving you a distance countdown from 131 kms.  The first few of the 16 indicated hills are not really noticeable until you get to Langestraat at 113 kms, which is still an easy 6% average for 600 m.  The weather was not very good as riding in dense fog I had to stop to wipe the condensation off of my glasses and there was a steady dripping of water from my helmet.  But traffic was light although I was passed from time to time by big groups of fast Belgian club riders who were clearly not planning to stop to take photos.

At Km 99 there was an interesting change in the fairly flat landscape as we turned a corner near Huldenberg and were suddenly confronted with Smeysberg, a startling climb that maxed out at 17 percent but luckily only went on for 600 m.  Looking around, I discovered that Belgians are not afraid of using enormous pie-plate-sized cassettes to deal with the poisonous little climbs of the region.  Soon after this we had the Ijskelderlaan, a more reasonable 12 percent maximum grade and the first Hellingen that we would see that would actually be on the pro course, marked with black and yellow arrows.  A few more turns through a residential area brought us to Overijse and the first feed station.

For your 10 Euros you have a pretty good selection of eats, including bananas, oranges, chocolate-coated cookies and, everyone’s favourite, waffles.  There was energy drink as well as a station with hoses and faucets where everyone could easily refill their bottles.  A mechanic was on duty and keeping busy and overall one could not help but be impressed by the organization of the whole thing.

Waffles!

The sun had burned off the fog an hour before and we headed off for the next segment, which seemd to be doing a lot of looping around Overijse to include climbs (Schavei, Hagaard, Heerstraat) on the pro route.  In spite of the dizzying parcours (Wait: is that Huldenberg yet again?) by the time we descended Heerstraat we were turned east towards Walloon Brabant, crossing into the French-speaking region at Km 65 and leaving the pro route behind for the remainder of the day. 

The course was definitely flatter now as we headed through the open fields or past orchards of apple trees in full blossom around Beauvechain, passing near a military airport.  There was only one climb on the list worthy of mention, the Rue de Pecrot which hit nearly 14 percent.  It average 6 percent but went on for a long time.  It was quite warm now and I took off my armwarmers and was comfortable riding in shorts and short sleeves.  Many of the locals were fully outfitted with tights and jackets but they also looked like their body fat percentage was modest compared to mine!

There was a wonderful moment when I turned a corner and stopped to take a photograph of the cobbled climb that had suddenly appeared.  I moved over to the wide and smooth sidewalk/bikepath and as I took out my camera large groups of riders also appeared.  Everyone’s response  to the unexpected challenge of the cobbled was the same and as each group came by the lead riders swore audibly in Flemish, apparently from an inexhaustible source of curse words that seems to be their linguistic heritage. 

I was starting to get a bit tired now from the climbing (to say nothing of my laughably insufficient training) and was relieved when the second feed station appeared at Willebringen.  Some more waffles and the home stretch began.  I mentally braced myself for the hill at Neeverlpsestraat at Km 29 but it was pretty easy.  What was tougher was the final climb at Km 8 on Korbeekdamstraat, another 500 m with a maximum of 11 percent, and where I was not the only cyclist to suffer from leg cramps.  But soon enough the road dropped and we found ourselves on a fast run-in to Leuven and the Ladeuzeplein.

Crossing the finish line resulted in nothing more than a good feeling. No photographers.  No podium girls.  No podium.  Unlike the Paris-Roubaix Challenge there are no medals or, well, anything except marquees where plenty of club riders were already putting down plenty of beer.  Leuven, in addition to its ancient Catholic university, is also the home of Anheuser-Busch InBev, the world’s largest producer of beer.  Unlike German rides which often begin at sports grounds there were also no showers but it was a short drive for me to Kortrijk and my hotel.  The next day I would watch the Paris-Roubaix pro race with my own beer in hand from the comfort of a luxury tour bus but my experience at Brabantse Pijl, riding with 2400 others in the phantom wheeltracks of Eddy Merckx and the rest, just confirmed that Belgium remains one of cycling’s Promised Lands.

For more information about other amateur events organized by Proximus Cycling Challenges, go to the not entirely comprehensible sort-of trilingual website here.

WieMu: The Belgian National Cycling Museum

Belgium is an unusual country, with a population split between two different languages and religions and essentially having two separate governments except on national issues such as defence. A history of stubbornness and argumentation make it the ideal capital of the European Union, with its 27 contentious Member States. But everyone is agreed about the great things in Belgium: beer, chocolate, beer, frites, beer and its status as a cycling mecca, famed for its brutal Spring Classics and cobbled roads and muddy cyclocross races. And of course it has to offer not one but two excellent cycling museums. I already reported on my visit to the Tour of Flanders Center in Oudenaarde but for a more general picture of cycling in the country we go elsewhere, to the West Flanders town of Roeselare.

In Flemish the name Wielermuseum is “Bicycle Museum” and it refers to itself as WieMu. Housed in an impressive 19^th Century armoury, the museum aims to provide a history of the bicycle as well as giving focus to racing, primarily on the road but also on the track and cross course. Entering through the arched doorway and after paying the reasonable admission price the visitor walks down a hallway with exhibits covering the very early history of the bicycle: there is a replica of Baron Drais' 1817 “Laufrad” as well as a very good replica of the Kirkpatrick Macmillan bicycle of 1839, allegedly the first to use pedals but the claim is now doubted by historians. Next up is a very fine Michaux velocipede from c. 1869.

From the crude beginnings of the bicycle we move now to the era of the high-wheeler and the museum gives visitors to sit on one and crank like mad, powering a camera so that they can see themselves. Of course the bicycles is firmly supported so no risk of falling on your head, unlike the brave velonauts of old.

There are work bicycles and military bicycles with guns and prim ladies' specials, all pre-dating the Great War. Next is a very interesting display that is actually a bike workshop that was relocated from the village of Heule, where it was opened by Maurice Hallaert in the 1930s. In 1946 the owner expanded operations to include bicycle saddle production in addition to bike repairs and sales. Joining his father in 1952, Marcel Hallaert oversaw further expansion, leading to handbuilt frame production under the Fietsen Hallaert tradename until 1969. In 1989 Marcel Hallaert donated the workshop to WieMu and one can see how self-contained bicycle production was back in the old days.

With the exception of the workshop, most of what is on display at the museum up to this point really does not have much to do with Belgium, a country that did not actually see any of its own bicycle production until the rather late date of 1891, when the Derby brand (yes, an English name for cachet) was introduced. But now comes the heart of the museum and probably the most interesting part: racing history.

The museum has an excellent collection of classic racing bicycles but really is strongest in post-World War II items. Of note is the red Flandria that Rik van Looy (“the Emperor of Herentals”) used to win the 1962 Paris-Roubaix race, one of the many highlights in a 17 year career that saw him become the first man to win all five “Monuments,” a feat since only accomplished by two other riders (both Belgian, of course).

Certainly the Belgians have produced many legendary cyclists and the museum devotes some space to a number of them, including Eddy Merckx (who does not get as much as space as one would imagine, given his palmares) and the more recent Johan Museeuw, Tom Boonen and Philippe Gilbert. There is a comprehensive collection of jerseys of long-forgotten-except-by-fans teams.

A sobering moment comes when the visitor reaches the entire display room devoted to the life and career of J ean-Pierre Monseré, nicknamed “Jempi.” A son of Roeselare, he turned professional in 1969, winning the Tour of Lombardy for Flandria the same year. In 1970 he became World Champion in Leicester, the second-youngest to do so at the time, and also won a national title on the track. His 1971 year began well with victory at the Vuelta a Andalucia but while competing in a local Belgium race he struck a car that had entered the course and died of his injuries. He was 22 years old and his medals, jerseys and the Lombardy bike are all on display at the museum. A memorial race in his name continues to be held every September.

The visitor next walks by a case of Tom Boonen memorabilia and can stand next to Philippe Gilbert's Canyon Speedmax time trial bike, displayed with team and Belgian champion tricolour jersey. Then there is a break from all this road racing history with a too-small display area devoted to track racing, including a stayer motorcycle, a derny pacesetting machine and some posters from Six Day Racing. Of particular note is a display case with souvenirs of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, including a fine portrait of Patrick Sercu who won gold in the 1000 m time trial and went on to become the greatest Six Day racer of the modern era with 88 wins.

Nick lusting for the Speedmax

A tip of the hat is given to cyclocross, but not much more which is surprising in light of the great success of Belgian riders and its extreme popularity in the country. But perhaps there will be exhibits in the future. A quick peek into the museum's attic will convince anyone that what is on display is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to WieMu's holdings (which include a box of Paris-Roubaix cobblestones!).

Of course the real tourist can enjoy getting photographed with a cutout to make himself look like Eddy Merckx or Freddy Maertens and there is a nicely-stocked store featuring historic replica jerseys, books and even, yes, beer. Who could resist a six-pack of Malteni beer, labelled in those familiar Merckx colours?

The Belgians have a great history in cycling and the WieMu,which offers changing exhibits, should be on the must-see list for a cycling fans. Unlike the other Flemish museum, the signs are in three languages so no dictionary is needed to enjoy it all. And even though cycling is a Big Deal in the country, they don't always take it so seriously either.

WielermuseumPolenplein 15
8800 Roeselare
Belgium 

Telephone:051 26 87 40
e-mail: wielermuseum@roeselare.be
Website: http://www.wielermuseum.be/en/home/ Note: a good part of this in English but at some point they just gave up translating so be prepared to switch to Flemish or French!
Opening Hours: Tuesday to Saturday, 10 am to 5 pm