Chasing Races - Part 4 (Paris - Roubaix)

The trip finished off with a day in France to watch Paris-Roubaix. When we rode the course two days earlier, Rich and I got the inside scoop from a local that lives near the Arenberg pave section about where to watch the race. When asked if he just walks down to the Arenberg section to watch, he said "Hell no! It is a mad house in there. Besides if you go into the forest to watch, you can only get out in time to drive all the way up to Roubaix to watch the finish." We had been lead to believe that you could see the race in a max of two places and perhaps Arenberg and the finish were two good places. Our man told us how you could actually see it in 3 places is you do it right. We caught enough of his broken English to figure out the general sections he was talking about. So, on Sunday morning it was game on.... we were going to try and hit all three sections.

To the pics we go.

You know you are getting close when you see a sign like this.


Since we had been down the the course just two days before the race, we got close with relative ease. We had some time to spare so we thought we would grab a cup of espresso at a cafe. We then spent the next hour trying to find a Cafe open on a Sunday morning. We finally settled for a Mac-labs (MacDonald's). To our surprise, they only served espresso! Properly caffeinated, we headed back out to find Sector 20, the first place we had targeted. Before travelling over to Belgium, we Dash hand snagged a high def map of Belgium and France. The problem was, no maps show the cobbled trails through the farmers fields and that was what we were looking for. After driving around some more... we knew were were close but could not put eyes on target. Then a local bike racer out on a training ride rolled by. All we had to say was "Pave?" and he spit out a series of goaches and droites. If you watch races in France for as many years as we have, you figure out that he was saying left and right. Sure enough, Pigeon got us there in about 3 minutes. Below is a pic of Rich and Dash at the exit of Sector 20.




A close-up of the Pave as we walked up the hill about 1/2 a mile. The cobbles in this section might as well be paved when you compare them to some of the sections that the riders would cross later on in the race.

We chose a spot to watch were to farmer roads connected.

Other had this in mind as well. Like the Fabian Cancellara Fan Club. We had seen this camper/van outside the hotel where Saxo Bank was staying in Kortrijk. I just figured they are part of the Saxo Bank armada. Turns out, this is a group from Ghent, Belgium. These guys are PRO when it comes to following a race. The got the camper/van with......

... and full on outdoor feast to make the trip the best it can be.

We set up camp on the opposite side of the road from the FC fan club. After we are there for a while, generally observing the crew from Ghent pound beers, they break out in a chant Can-cel-la-ra! Can-cel-la-ra! I lean over to Rich and tell him....."Dude, bust out that flag". Rich and Dash snap out Old Glory and we chant back HIN-CAP-IE! HIN-CAP-IE! HIN-CAP-IE! With the sides established, it was time to go mingle. These guys were an absolute hoot.

Stories are traded.... beers are shared and pictures are taken.

Rich mentioned it in an earlier post... but the story needs to be told again. After the picture below was taken, the lass sitting next to Dash exclaimed what she said was "I Sweat". But to our American ears, here Belgian accent made it sound like "I'm Wet". The fact that all her Belgian buddies thought the same as we did solidify it for us.

The leader of the FC Fan club is an executive with Heinz. They all were wearing these shirts. Turns out, they were part of the FC Fan club... but they were all Belgian at heart.

Once the race got close, special head gear began to appear.

I set up my GoPro in Digger Cam mode and this is what the peleton looked like when it came by Sector 20.

One other the other really cool people we met at Sector 20 was a Henk. Henk was a British Ex-Pat that lived in Belgian. He was also planning on seeing the race in three spots. The main difference being that Henk and done this several times and knew exactly which roads to take. In another great example of the hospitality that we received over in Belgium, Henk tells us, "If you can keep up, you can follow me to the next place". We reply..."Not a problem!". Turns out, good ol' Henk drove a Volvo wagon like it was a rally car. But we made it Sector 12 with 20 minutes before the race came through. We would have never pulled it off on our own.]

This next picture was on Sector 12. When I got back and watched the recording of the race, I was able to point to some black spots on the screen when the race passed this sector and exclaim to my mildly impressed wife....."Look! Those three dots.... that's us!!!!

By this time.... the race was starting to shatter. This is the main group coming through. The lead pack had already passed a minute or so earlier.

The race course goes right along the A23 highway and then took a right hand turn onto a cobble path across another set of fields. Our original plan before meeting Henk was that if all else failed, we would just pull off the highway and watch the race. Turns out, that would have been a bad idea. As we were walking out, we noticed that the police hand set up cones around everyone that was parked along the shoulder of the highway. They had a couple policeman making sure everyone who parked and watched the race stayed parked as another one wrote tickets to everyone who pull this maneuver.

After another 20 minutes of driving like Steve McQueen. We got to Sector 6 with about 10 minutes before the race. Word had gotten out that Cancellara had crushed everyone again.

The closer to the end, the bigger the crowds got.

I still remember this sector and how hard it was. When Cancellara came through, he looked like he was out on an easy Sunday ride. A 25mph-across-the-cobbles Sunday ride.... but a Sunday ride none the less.

We finished off the race by watching the finish in a local bar. It was then back to Kortrijk to pack up all our stuff and catch the train up to Brussels for a flight out the next morning.