This doesn’t feel right. We’ve come down the same road again, turned left again, and once again and are heading towards the same hill we rode up just ten minutes ago… the same hill that averages an unfriendly 17% over its short one kilometre length.
We stop to jab at our Garmins and double check that we’re not veering off up a tiny road we didn’t notice on the first ascent – and no, both bleepy boxes say this is the way, the Scherpenberg again. Thanks Garmin for choosing to throw a wobbler on a 17% climb…
The Ronde van Vlanderen blasts past the top of this a short while after it summits the Oude Kruisberg out of Ronse. If they slotted this tiny hidden road into the race its tasty gradient could prove to be a pivotal part of the podium, but there would be absolutely no room for any spectators, or sponsored hospitality marquees. Even if the team cars could fit up it, they’d lose a few roof mounted bikes to the trees. We grunt up the hill once again, and make sure to turn right not left at the next junction.
It wouldn’t matter so much if we didn’t have day three legs with an ample amount of mileage and climbing already clogged in them, but our brains are so addled by the twisty, turny, drunken spider-routed down-up-down nature of the ride that we accept our fate as normal, and it doesn’t make much difference.
We’re getting tired and confused thanks to the Flandrien Challenge, an open invitation to ride 59 iconic Belgian bergs and legendary cobbled segments in under 72 hours. There’s no specific date for this, you do it whenever you want and if you succeed, you get to stick your own little personalised plaque on the wall of fame in the Centre Ronde van Vlaanderen in Oudenaarde. It’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these earnestly futile things, and while I don’t have anything to prove it’s a catalyst for an excuse to head over to Belgium, and one of my favourite places to ride bikes with partner Claire.
Cycling In Flanders help you out by offering several ready made options for their challenge. There are one, two, three and four day suggestions, all with downloadable routes, and we opt for the three-day option as just the right ratio of hard to doable.
With about 410km to ride and just under 5,500m of climbing on a myriad tiny roads, this saves a lot of planning time and bother. Diaries and cat herding are such that we’re doing this just as the Classics season is almost over, and the pros are punching it further south around the Liege-Bastogne-Liege. The weather is also not its stereotypical Belgian Classics self, and is all bright skies and warm sunshine – as long as you stay out the wind, which still has a seasonal bite to it.
Riding outside cycling’s Holy Week also means that the roads are stunningly quiet, and although you can’t beat the atmosphere and excitement of bumping into team riders and cars round every corner, and having a team bus outside the Ibis when the races are in the area, it’s nice to have the place very much to ourselves. We do get overtaken by an impossibly lanky Lidl-Trek rider, and while he might not be good enough to be on the roster for today’s race, still breezes past us up a spike of a climb with a polite and not-even-breathing “hello”.
The first day is a relatively easy short 75km with just the one major climb in it, although that is the iconic Kemmelberg that we’ll go up twice. Based in Heuvelland, it’s a different Belgium to the well storied and over merchandised cobbles and bergs, and home instead to First World War history and the Gent-Wevelgem. The start is at the Menin Gate in Ypres, the imposing arch and sobering memorial to the British and Commonwealth soldiers who were killed in the Ypres Salient during the Great War whose graves aren’t known – we would return post-ride to respect the evening’s Last Post ceremony.
We’re immediately on a quiet path alongside the river and slip into easy roads before the first challenge at 20km, and the steepest and longest side of the Kemmelberg with a max gradient of over 20% – straight up with cobbles – to The Ossuaries, the monument to honour the French troops killed on this hill that sticks out like an easily hittable target for miles.
This is one of the few cobbled sections on today’s ride, which is mostly country farm roads that don’t offer many unpleasant surprises – but the constant undulations are enough to stretch the legs. There is a pointless loop at 45km, which takes you around and up the short but steep climb of Baneberg which goes underneath a ski-lift, not something you expect to see in Belgium.
There’s the second ascent of the Kemmelberg with 20km to go, and it’s the less aggressive curved one that the race attacks. Shortly after there’s an opportune chance to stop for a reward ice cream. A two-scoop cone in Belgium? That’s not very monochrome gritty suffering Merckxian… we’re done for the day.
Day two is the biggy, arriving with a certain amount of trepidation and a suitably big breakfast. At 190km with about 2,400m of climbing, the route profile looks like a rusty saw blade and the map is a dog-chewed figure of eight with multiple intertwined loops.
Featuring 12 named climbs and seven cobbled sectors, it starts outside the Centre Ronde van Vlaanderen in Oudenaarde and heads west, on rolling roads that I recognise from a ride I did here a while back. The first challenge of the day starts early at 16km with the short sharp Nokereberg, and not long afterwards the flat but long cobbled section of Huisepontweg past the windmill. Even when it’s sunny and dry these cobbles are hard work, and if it was stereotypically Belgian it would be absolutely horrible. This mere 1.5km section definitely burns a few matches keeping on top of the gear to float over the bumps, and we’re not even on the real lumpy stuff yet.
I’ve ridden enough around here to recognise some bits, and maybe able to give a little briefing about what might be coming up – although the route does enough wiggles and tangles for me to be side-stepped more than once as we dart away from where I thought we were going to head up yet another unknown and abrupt climb. And this is how we find ourselves on the Paddestraat, which I remember from the Ronde sportive and where we tidied away some course arrows that time.
Coming in at an unfamiliar angle, we cross the railway tracks and are on the “oh, we’re here” teeth rattler that’s a significant 2km of effort, although it’s a far nicer experience without having to navigate the melee of floundering sportivists.
Aware that this is a long day and there’s still tomorrow to go, there’s no smashing it going on, just steady getting the job done pedalling. Both partner Claire and I are good at that sort of thing, although that doesn’t stop her getting a QOM along the way. Not bad, getting a QOM in Belgium, that’s a present to take home.
In order to validate your completion of the Flandrien Challenge you’ll have to turn on, or sign up for, Strava so that the Centre Ronde van Vlaanderen can confirm your accomplishment and create your little wall plaque. All along the route there are strips embedded in the road signifying the start and finish of Strava segments, so if you want to give it the beans there’s plenty of opportunity. Best of luck making a dent on any sector where a Classics race has been through, mind you.
Geraardsbergen appears at 75km which is earmarked for lunch, but the town square is busy with a market and packed cafes, so we press on. We’re glad that we don’t have to tackle the Muur van Geraardsbergen with full stomachs.
On the bucket list of cycling climbs, it’s less than a kilometre long but has a max gradient of 20%, and was the penultimate and decisive climb of the Ronde for years until the current crowd and revenue-friendly laps at the end race format was adopted. The 90- degree left turn before you hit the dead straight wall still rouses butterflies, but thanks to modern easy gearing and fat road tyres, it’s not as big a wrestle as it used to be. We pause at the top by the church that appears as a race backdrop in a thousand photos for rear pocket snacks.
Dropping off the hill we’re immediately onto the Bosberg, which is a different beast altogether, a long drag that gets gradually steeper as you hit the cobbles under the shade of the trees. If you were feeling good or fancied launching an attack, this would be a traditional place to do it.
The afternoon is peppered with named climbs that winch incongruously up through sleepy suburban Belgium: Tenbosse, Valkenberg and Berendries might not have the cachet of the steep cobbles, but can still chip away ruthlessly at the legs. One hill that definitely has Classics acclaim is the Molenberg, and I can sense its presence as I remember the main road we’re clattering along. I glance at my Garmin, which says we’re just about to turn right, and warn Claire that this might sting a little. It’s a cheeky little bugger, the cobbles are in a bit of a state, heavily crowned in the centre enough to scrape a team car’s sump. Definitely worthy of a few muttered oaths.
It could be a short easy spin from here to the finish in Oudenaarde, but the route still has about 50km of wiggling about to complete before we can even consider that. There’s the long cobbled 3% slog of Kerkgate, the Eikenberg with its handy smooth concrete strips either side of the cobbles, the torture of dropping tantalisingly into Oudenaarde’s outskirts and being able to see the finish before looping out once again to climb the Wolvenberg. Then it’s the final cobbled flourish of Ruitersstraat, before finally cruising in along the river. Pickle flavoured crisps and a beer in the square well-earned.
The last day feels like an easy wind down after yesterday at almost 50km shorter, but it has almost as much climbing, and there are some of Flanders’ big hitters waiting with 23 climbs to look forward to with gradients consistently steeper than on the previous days. All the gear clicks begin straight from the off, with only a kilometre of warm-up on sluggish legs before we’re climbing out of Oudenaarde on the Achterberg, a road I’ve descended before so know it’s not fair so early on. It does avoid the long drag on the main road up the hill though, and the view at the top is spectacular.
Today’s route is a real squiggly tangled mess of string, and we’ll approach the same junctions from different directions several times over the day. It’s mentally confusing for us, and bewildering enough for both our GPS units to get thoroughly discombobulated and send us up that cheeky 17% hill twice for giggles.
It’s a baffling stream of climbs, jumping onto a main road for a bit, diving off, descending, climbing, back on a main road, climb, descend, climb, and being glad someone else has composed the route as without a lifetime of local knowledge this would be impossible to create yourself. After a bunch of unknown roads and endless turns and ascents it’s a relief to be back on something well known, and the cobbled Haaghoek with the dip in the middle that rewards maintaining any momentum you might be able to cling to as you climb out the other side.
At just over 100km we’re onto the most famous triumvirate of climbs in cycling of the Oude Kwaremont, Paterberg and Koppenberg, the three climbs in the three lap finishing loop of the most recent Tours of Flanders. I thought we’d be tackling these earlier as we hit warp speed down the N36, but we’re sent left instead down the bike lane towards Ruien to rise past the landmark Jowan bike shop to the Kluisberg and then a cheeky sting of a climb that doesn’t even make the Cycling In Flanders highlights list. We plummet down the N36 again and turn right, as is proper, to face the Oude Kwaremont, the longest cobbled climb in Flanders at 2200 meters long, the place where the Pros tend to make their pivotal move, and one of my favourite climbs ever.
The ten deep rowdy crowds of a few weeks back have disappeared and we have it to ourselves, although remnants of that weekend still linger in the fields. Then it’s down to the Paterberg and any speed that might be remaining after the sharp right hand turn and gear dump disappears as we have to stop abruptly for a tractor coming down. In my head we skip along the road now onto the iconic Koppenberg but I should know better about the Flandrien Challenge by now and we jink right to go up Kortekeer, a cheeky hidden climb that ramps up to 17% just when you don’t want it to.
Only after that extra little bit of strength has been sucked out of your legs do we hit the Koppenberg and it’s more a committed grind up now than any dance on the pedals. Ordinarily the most famous climb in the region, and one of cycling’s greatest, should be the climax of the ride and we’d roll into town for beer and medals but there’s still another 20km to go and four teeth on the climb profile.
While Mariaborrestraat isn’t really a climb it’s a long cobbled section that takes significant conviction now to keep the wheels rolling forward, then the Taaienberg with Tom Boonen’s legs at the top which we totally manage to miss, I think we were distracted by a cow, Kouterberg and finally Ladeuze with it’s sunken lane towards the top which makes it one of my favourite lesser known climbs. And with that we’re done, having finally run out of climbs and cobbles, so we fall back into Oudenaarde to finish and get our little plaques, although at this tired moment completion is reward enough. While our awards are being prepared there is cake and fizzy pops in the cafe and we stick our names alongside the others that have completed the Challenge. Silly reason for a ride done.
Any one of these days would make a great ride out on a bike – combining them into a long weekend just makes it a bit harder. The weather helped of course, but that just goes to amplify that Belgium doesn’t have to live up to its stereotypical rainy, grey, miserable, gritty, suffering cyclist image – it can just be a wonderful place to ride your bike. The country roads are empty and quiet, drivers are courteous, and it’s just the choice of post-ride beers that live up to the stereotype.
There’s a lot more to riding around here than the fabled climbs, and while they’re great to tick off your to-do list it’s the lesser known roads, more benign cobbled sectors and secret shadowy bergs that leave the bigger impression of being great cycling roads, maybe because they don’t carry the weight of history and expectation. You might even want to do some of them twice…
