Monday, July 31, 2017

Our Classics Route - Roubaix & Flanders

(Trip log part 2)

   Because it wasn’t clear during our trip planning whether we were going to have a rental car with GPS, before heading to Europe we equipped ourselves with a very nice Belgium road map, and I made a small booklet of copies from Google Maps detailing how to reach some legendary cycling spots. We were VERY happy to find that our Opel Astra had a sat-nav system, but my little booklet still proved to be quite useful “in tight”.
   Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the reliability and design of the Honda Fit I drive at home, but it is kind of an economy car and accelerates like one. The pick-up in this Opel was amazing – a touch of the gas when merging onto a highway and whoosh! It was like an airplane takeoff, as I was forced back into my seat, and the car was practically up to speed in an instant. I became a big fan of the car.

   Although she wasn’t exactly starting from scratch, since she studied French in school, Sue had diligently practiced the language for months leading up to her departure. I was amazed to hear her comfortably (well, at least it sounded that way) carry on short conversations with hotel clerks, etc. I toyed with calling her “Suzette” (she wasn’t a fan), and I was sad that she wouldn’t really have a reason to speak it anymore at home.
   Anyway, her patience for the French chick on the GPS didn’t last very long, and she was quickly pushing buttons and checking the user manual to change over to English. After a short bit of frustration, Sue was relieved to find the posh British voice she and her sister had named “Beatrice” during their rental around Paris. I found it rather comical that the voice said “please” before giving a direction, but if you made a mistake and missed her suggestion, she provided a corrected route that did not come with such courtesy.

   Roubaix was just a twenty-minute drive from Lille, and we parked in the middle of the sports complex which included the famous Vélodrome André-Pétrieux (host of the Paris-Roubaix race finish), the Stab Velodrome (indoor), a couple of soccer fields, a running track and BMX course. Besides the velodrome itself, I took photos of the Rue Alexander Fleming (where the cyclists make the final right turn and hear the roar of the crowd as they reach the track), the 100th anniversary monument (looked like a super-sized version of the winner’s trophy) and the clubhouse where the cyclists traditionally shower after the race. The individual stalls have small name plaques of past winners.







   We then drove about 28 miles to the southeast to visit one of the nastiest sections of pavé encountered during Paris-Roubaix, at the Arenberg Trench. We walked in about a third of its 1.5-mile length and were simply astounded at how bad of an experience this must be. We also imagined that riding there at this time of the year would be somewhat better, with the weeds grown up in between to “soften” the ride, as opposed to April, when the growth has died and the winter rain and snow has washed a lot of the dirt from between the setts (stone blocks).


   All during the trip, if we didn’t have any time constraints, we chose to travel on local roads and enjoy the small towns along the way. During this drive we became very hungry and were inspired by a wacky shop statue to stop for some pomme frites, authentic Belgian fries. The woman at the counter did a bit of a double-take when we placed a large order for each of us, and we understood why when were eventually presented with a huge paper cone of frites – one order alone would have been a generous portion, easily shared. We had plenty left over as a dinner side dish later that evening, and I think even some for breakfast!



   We were working our way through Wallonia, the French-speaking region of Belgium, up to Flanders, so that we could drive up some of the brutally steep cobbled climbs featured in the Tour of Flanders, the one-day classic held the week before Paris-Roubaix. The pictures we took ended up being of the “we were there”-variety, since they didn’t really give the narrow, steep and ragged conditions any justice. The leafy trees also blocked much of the view of the rising pitch, so I selected a couple of favorite online images. First up was the Old Kwaremont...


...then the Koppenberg.


   I was really glad no cars were coming down either hill while we were driving up. Besides ruining the effect of climbing what the riders not-so-lovingly call hellingen, the narrow roads left absolutely no room to pull over, and backing down the winding, bumpy roads to get out of the way wasn’t a prospect I was looking forward to trying!
   The final stop of the day was Oedenaarde, a small city that long ago was a world-renowned producer of tapestries, now best known for the Centrum Tour of Flanders, a museum dedicated to the classic race. There is an incredible collection of memorabilia to see, and scores of video screens display footage a racing nut like me can spend hours soaking in. I was kind of glad most of the text was in Flemish, which kept me from being totally lost in my cycling mania!

Benches within the museum featured covers with classic jersey designs.

One could compare a 1990s Johann Museeuw bike with the 2015 carbon aero version ridden by Alexander Kristoff. A steel tube frame, aluminum wheels and downtube shifters is on the left; carbon aero tubing and wheels, plus combination levers that provide braking and electronic shifting are on the right.


   I can’t say I was actually looking forward to the next morning and turning 50, but I certainly was excited to start a ride that took a good bit of pre-planning and a great amount of physical preparation in order to make it a really special day. Stay tuned...



Saturday, July 29, 2017

Plane, Trains and Automobile

   When considering family and friends and how to most effectively share the stories about our trip, I had thought about either starting a new blog page or adding to one Sue had set up on previous occasions during journeys with our boys. Eventually I figured that there would be enough cycling destinations and culture along the way to justify fitting the details into my Cycle Tech blog. Besides, most regular readers would be used to me rambling into other topics!
   I didn't really want to be saddled with writing blog entries during the trip, and I really dislike the touch-screen typing on an I-Pad, which (not being cell-phone users) was our electronic device of choice for the trip. The I-Pad also lacked a USB port for us to upload photos from our respective digital cameras, so other than an occasional snapshot taken with the tablet, the editing/sharing of photos would have to be postponed anyway. I found it simpler to just jot down some notes on paper when I thought I would need more than a mental record, then do a series of blog entries on our trip when we returned to Royersford.
   Before leaving to meet my wife in France, I was concerned how my fitness would drop over the three weeks without the regular hard workouts and high mileage. I wanted to maintain some type of form, as a few guys in my cycling circle were considering doing a century (100-miles) later this summer, and I had intended to join them. Turns out I shouldn’t have worried too much, as I ended up doing over 150 miles of riding during our journey through some of the most cycle-centric regions of Europe.
   Because my sons had to work, and I certainly didn’t want to pay for parking at the airport for three weeks, I drove up to Bethlehem to leave the car there and had a nice visit with my brother, who provided taxi service to Newark Liberty International. Eventually, when Sue and I returned, I rode my bike back up to retrieve the car, and I was quite happy to find my legs were up to the task – but that is looking ahead too far into the story...

   The Delta flight was relatively uneventful, with 7½ hours of games, music and a couple of movies to kill the time until we touched down in Brussels. I was going to catch a regional train to Brussels “Midi” station and take the TGV on to meet Sue in Lille, which is just outside the Belgium border. Unfortunately, some railroad employees decided to mess with my plans a bit – luckily my vacation-planner wife always builds in a safety cushion of time in our travel scheduling.
   I was immediately confused when I went to purchase my train ticket at one of the computerized kiosks, as there was no Brussels-Midi station among the choices of destination. A helpful clerk informed me that the three Brussels stations (Noord, Central and Zuid) were in the same zone, as far as paying for them, but he did not correct my assumption that Central would be Midi, as in “middle”.
   When I went to the platform, most of the trains on the display were labeled with their end stop, which didn’t help me. Luckily(?) there was an attendant at the top of the escalator, who I can only assume had a purpose of trying to help confused tourists like me. She informed me that the next train was due to leave for Midi on platform two. Well, when I reached the bottom of the escalator, the train was pulling out, and not wanting to go all the way back up, I asked a conductor on the platform when the next train for Midi was coming.
   This is where the fun starts, as he told me there is no station with that name, “Only north, central and south” – in perfect English, mind you. When I went back up the escalator to find the attendant, she (of course) was nowhere to be found, so I asked someone dressed in a Belgian Rail jacket. Seemed like a good idea, right?


    Well, at his suggestion I found myself on a train headed away from Brussels, toward the town of Leuven, which I knew from years of watching cycling and learning some general geography, was not the correct direction. There was only one person in this particular coach with me, and she must have seen the confusion in my facial expressions.
   Gretchem (“Like Gretchen, but with an M”, she later explained during introductions) spoke fantastic English, which she said was learned primarily from TV but later perfected while working at the university. She was extremely patient when explaining that Midi is actually Brussels Zuid (south), where all of the high-speed, long-distance trains, such as the ICE, Eurostar, Thalys and TGV, come into the city, which is effectively the capital of the European Union.
   My new friend even used her smart phone to check the schedules of the returning trains and to make sure I could make it back on time for my TGV connection. “Plenty of time,” she assured me, “and I’ll make sure to get you on the right platform when we get to Leuven!” Gretchem proudly pointed out some landmarks in her hometown, such as “THE Stella Artois brewery” (I suppose there are secondary company facilities in the country), as we approached the station.
   I felt like giving her a hug after she pointed to the schedule board with the information and counted down the station stops on the map to make sure I wouldn’t be misdirected again, but I realized that would be kinda creepy from a stranger, and just thanked her profusely! Her directions were perfect, and I knew the train was arriving at “Zuid (Midi)” when I saw trains of all the different companies on parallel tracks in the large railyard.


   The TGV ride was pleasant enough, but the skies were turning threateningly dark and promised to make my walk from Lille Europe station a wet one. The rain situation was made worse because the directions Sue gave me to our hotel were from the Lille Flandres station (where her train from Paris had arrived), and I ended up heading in the wrong direction down the main boulevard.

Lille Europe train station

Lille Flandres train station - yes, it's easy to tell the difference VISUALLY

   We pack very lightly compared to most tourists that can be seen hauling/wheeling large suitcases around, but walking a mile or two in warm, humid conditions with a couple dozen added pounds strapped to the body still doesn't make me very happy. I hadn’t seen Sue for a couple of weeks and expected/intended to be excited to see her, but my jet-lagged, rain-soaked and sweaty body couldn’t pull off the expected/intended attitude. A shower and change of clothes certainly improved the situation, as did a rather immediate collapse on the bed for a nap!
   I woke up refreshed enough to watch the day’s Tour de France coverage live on TV, which was quite a treat in French language, even if I could understand very little of what was said! Sue had ducked out to find the Carrefour market and purchase some fruit and sandwich supplies for dinner, as well as something quick and easy for breakfast the next morning.
   Because I have Celiac disease and must follow a gluten free diet, eating out is normally a bit difficult. However, another recent health issue complicated things with a temporary batch of added food restrictions, so restaurants had become practically impossible – especially when faced with interpreting other languages in menus! Instead, we were constantly making market stops for food, and although this particular grocery visit in Lille was a small one, Sue looked forward to stocking up a bit when we had a rental vehicle in which to store/transport supplies easily.
   The weather had cleared up enough for us to take a walk around Lille, which gave me a preview of the setup of many northern European cities we were going to be visiting – a modern section with business/commercial properties and four-lane boulevards, and an “old town” with narrow, cobbled roads, ancient row-houses and a prominent center square with the town hall, guild houses and elaborate bell tower



   The next morning, we would be picking up a car near the Lille Europe station and heading off to visit some legendary cycling spots. A lot more to come...


Monday, July 3, 2017

Ohhhh, Henry


   Last week I took a long ride through Monmouth County, New Jersey, a large portion of which was spent on the Henry Hudson Trail. Pretty much all I have to say is “I won’t be back”, but of course, I will elaborate.
   I had also planned to incorporate a ride on the North Jersey Coast Line train, something I’ve always wanted to do. Besides wanting to enjoy some of the seaside scenery, I’m a big fan of railroad history and architecture, and there are some notable stations that exist along the route. The station at Little Silver (below) was designed by H.H. Richardson, considered a member of the “Trinity of Architecture”, along with Frank Lloyd Wright and Louis Sullivan.



   The trip didn’t get off to a great start, as the train I was expecting to board at Middletown was a half hour late, which caused me to miss a connection to another train, forcing me to wait an hour for the next one. Of course, that train was late a half hour, which, down-the-line after my bike ride, had me stuck in North Jersey rush hour. DRATS!
   It was a very pleasant train ride, and my spirits were good when I pulled my Colnago out of the car and headed off to find the trailhead for the Henry Hudson Trail in the community of Belford. The trail was a former New Jersey Central rail line and travels over 22 miles in a crescent shape, which I thought was pretty appropriate, since the name of the famous explorer’s ship was the Half Moon.
   Again, it didn’t take long to realize I was not in for a good time. The shore breeze was howling into my face, but I figure that couldn’t be helped. However, the first mile of the trail had five street crossings and patches of bumpy, broken pavement caused by tree roots underneath.

   The trail didn’t really improve too much in quality, as I lost count after THIRTY road crossings, which left my legs fatigued by the constant accelerations to regain some semblance of a rhythm. Speaking of which, I realized how badly this type of riding affects my attention to drinking water. When I looked down at my salt-lined gloves and realized my hydration mistake, at least I was surprised to find the water had cooled considerably during the shady ride - remember, the bottles were left in the car a couple of hours during the train ride. There was a miserable warm drink that accompanied a snack I had before setting off!
   The shade was definitely a positive aspect of the trail - even when it did open up briefly into some farmland, I was never far from the wooded areas. Unfortunately, the dappled sunlight made it hard for my eyes to adjust and subsequently made it harder to spot the nasty tree root bumps. It seemed that a fatter-tired hybrid or trail bike would have been a better choice. My arms and butt were taking a beating!

Shady, but dangerous

The bridges over the marshlands and streams were superior to the pavement conditions

   I really ended up enjoying more the on-road sections of the ride, and I have often given New Jersey state and county routes a positive review, as they are generally well-paved with wide shoulders. It helped that the wind was now at my back as I turned east at Freehold and was easily holding 25 mph, zipping along Colts Neck Road. I had to really pay attention now, as I faced one of the things I don’t like about New Jersey roads – the lack of corner signs that tell you both intersecting streets.
   It never fails that some type of confusion occurs, no matter how careful I am putting together my cue sheets. I have gotten into the habit of yelling out to anyone I can find to confirm that I am going the right way. On this occasion, I gave the roll-down-window-signal* to a very friendly lady pulling out of the entrance of Holmdel High School. We laughed at the street sign dilemma, and she offered an explanation in her thick accent, “It was intended to keep us New Yawkers out, but I think it ends up just making us unable to leave!” I replied that it must also apply to Pennsylvanians.

*By the way, this only works with those of us old enough to remember crank-down car windows – anyone younger looks at you like you are nuts if you make that gesture toward them.
  
   Anyway, I did find my way out, but not before encountering some nasty hills that I felt didn’t belong anywhere near the coast. After an hour of level trail riding, it was quite a shock to the system - Monmouth County is anything but flat, folks!  
   Perhaps the climbing was good last-minute training for the Muur de Geraardsbergen, since I am due to take that on in less than a week. My boys will be around to mind the shop, should anyone have a desperate need for a new bike (plenty in stock!) – I suppose they will be looking for some type of percentage?

   I will be taking a writing break for a few weeks until I return with a few stories, but I will leave with pics of my latest completed project, the Basso Gap: