Tag: climbs

Flanders: a pilgrimage on holy cycling grounds 🙏

    “I am not a cyclist. I am a racing cyclist. That is quite another thing.” (Tim Krabbé, The Rider)

Cycling is 50% suffering and 50% the stories about the suffering. Few races spark the imagination as the Ronde Van Vlaanderen, one of The Five Monuments. Every year, somewhere between late March – early April, this race storms across Flanders as the grand finale of Holy (cycling) Week, and it has fired up the dreams (and nightmares for some) of generations.

From Merckx’s epic 70km solo in 1969, to De Vlaeminck’s cunning, to Vanderaerdens mudfest victory and the hattricks of Museeuw and Boonen. It’s Belgian legends who have conquered the mythical cobbles and sharp hills to claim their place in the pantheon of cycling. The Ronde is where heroes are made, suffering is immortalized, and every pedal stroke can become a legend retold for years to come.

One of those legends speaks even more the the imagination than all others, if only because its mystery keeps fans arguing in café corners even a decade later. And this time, it wasn’t Belgian heroics at the finish.

In 2010, wifey and I decided to go watch the race, watching on the legendary Muur van Geraardsbergen, and a show we got. On the Molenberg Swiss rider Fabian “Spartacus” Cancellara, and local god Tom Boonen broke away and built a significant gap on a trailing group. By the foot of the Muur, they remained clear by about 1 minute. On the steepest section, right beneath our noses, Cancellara accelerated while still seated, using his time trial power to ride Boonen off his wheel. Or did he?

No sooner had the finish line been crossed than cycling started buzzing. A video surfaced seemingly showing Cancellera fiddling with mysterious buttons mid-race. Fans pointed out he swapped bikes up to two times, with no obvious mechanical issues. Whispers of “mechnical doping” and hidden motors all abound! No proof ever came, but neither did the rumours die. By the official ceremony, Cancellara’s race bike had, somehow, vanished from sight, giving conspiracy theorists full license to speculate.

At first, Boonen himself didn’t comment too much on the conspiracy, but during a Podcast of Stamcafé Koers (the brilliant cycling podcast from Het Nieuwsblad and Bahamontes), he couldn’t help but quip about the whole thing and if anything, only kept the rumours alive…

Now, 15 years later, the opportunity finally arose for us to ride the race ourselves. Epic it was.

The Legends of Tre Cime and Stelvio in Belgian Cycling History

Some climbs are more than just Strava segments, they’re cathedrals of pain where cycling legends were made, and where mere mortals (hi 👋) go to find out just how human they really are…

Tre Cime di Lavaredo: Chasing Merckx, Losing to Gravity
The year is 1968, on a day where the weather turned the Dolomites apocalyptic with snow, hail, and freezing rain,Eddy Merckx starts the stage stage nearly nine minutes behind a breakaway full of top climbers. Just 22 at the time, Merckx wasn’t yet the all-conquering Cannibal.

Instead of cracking, Merckx unleashed a now mythical assault, catching up not just to the break but dropping them all, riding as though untouched by the misery and cold that saw many rivals walking or pushed up the slopes. He crossed the finish line solo, over four minutes ahead of anyone else, draped in a blanket, as Italian reporters wrote that “men cried” watching him. That day, Merckx took the maglia rosa and never let it go, clinching his first Grand Tour and launching his status as the greatest cyclist ever. Unless Pogacar will change that status.

The year is 2024, and yours truly tries to follow in the Cannibals footsteps. Riding Tre Cime, you still feel his ghost. Every switchback is haunted by Merckx’s superhuman grit, and the mountain remembers. Even Merckx later said it was his finest day in the mountains.

If Merckx had seen me, he might have offered a pat on the back, or a defibrillator. Still, I made it to the top. Just don’t ask how long it took.

Stelvio: De Gendt Did It Better
2012, the Breakaway King Thomas De Gendt faces a stage with 219km and two brutal climbs (the Mortirolo and the snow-capped Stelvio). Famous for his audacity, De Gendt attacks on the Mortirolo, flies past the breakaway. By the base of the Stelvio, snow was lining the roads. He dropped all challengers on the upper slopes, racing through hairpin after hairpin with only Italian TV helicopters, gaping fans, and the faintest hope of an upset following behind.
At the summit finish, De Gendt took the win by almost a minute. His legendary effort rocketed him to 4th overall, and a day later, after the time trial, he stood on the third step of the Giro podium.

Just like Merckx exploit on Tre Cime, the 2012 Stelvio stage remains a treasured Belgian cycling memory: how one attack, at the tail end of a Grand Tour, with snow falling turned De Gendt from a breakaway specialist into a Giro icon.

My own effort was less impressive, the scenery on the other hand made it all worth it. Altitude sickness? Almost. 48 switchbacks? Counted every cursed one.
Reality: no breakaways, but a close to break-down halfway up. Still, Belgian stubbornness is a performance enhancer, is what they told me.

Belgian DNA, Budget Legs
Tre Cime and Stelvio are carved into Belgian cycling history, riding them myself is living history. Will be back for more.