After Krtek’s offering, here is my humble little report!

On Saturday morning I got up at 4.30. Cyclingdiva and CycleGirl can attest to this in case you don’t believe me. Why, you ask, would anybody do such a thing? One word: CROSS. I have a friend who takes pictures of cyclists for a living and he persuaded (that’s totally not the right word) me to accompany him and a couple of other friends to Koksijde for the annual sandfest, because I couldn’t possibly live without experiencing Belgian cross firsthand. I was so excited I actually woke up BEFORE MY ALARM! Several life-restoring cups of tea later, we arrived in Koksijde where task number one was to find the press centre. Flemings…they ride bikes very nicely but signage is not their forte it would seem. No matter though, as Koksijde is lovely in a traffic jam, in the pouring rain, when you’re bursting for the loo! Friend duly accredited, he dumped us by the entrance to the course before disappearing with his cameras and such like, leaving us to find frites and beer. 

 

 We arrived just as the Under-23s were starting. One glimpse of the pack riding through the sand and I was sold; crazy, mad, ludicrous (have you ever tried explaining cross to a non-cyclist?!) but utterly, wonderfully delicious. I wanted a cross bike sooo much. After acquiring some good old Belgian stodge to eat (I had ketchup on my frites; does this make me a bad person?), we went for a walk around the whole course to get the lay of the land, stopping to cheer the U23s at various points. We somehow managed to find our way around all of it, though we never did work out how it fitted together. This was too much for out little caffeine fuelled brains. By the time we got round the other side of the beer tent, the women and elites were warming up. We watched them whizzing down one of the smoother of the sandbanks. Here are a couple of piccies: 

 

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Dieter Vanthourenhout?

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Bart Aernouts

I was so childishly excited when Nys, Albert and Stybar rode past in quick succession. Apparently when I saw Albert I went 'all wobbly', according to one of the guys I was with. Great; I'd known him for just a few hours and already he'd sussed me as a shameless Albert fangirl. After this flurry of excitement followed more drinks (mulled wine was a very fine idea on what was such a horrible wet day) and then a wander over to the team area, which was very glamorously in the carpark of the local Lidl. I had hoped for some rider photo opportunities at this point (one rider in particular...ahem) but there was almost nobody to be seen. I guess on a day like that you can't blame them for wanting to huddle inside the vans. Bah. Dieter Vanthourenhout was inspecting his bike however:

 

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In the absence of the stars, I made do with oggling their machines. Here's Stybar's:

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And here is Albert's. I was quite tempted to nick a couple of those wheels....

 

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So, no Niels photo but I did leave the BKCP-Powerplus area with a new hat. Now I really looked like a local. Hurrah. When we got back to the course, the women had just started. The crowds were not yet huge in every area so I took a few snaps. I was kinda hoping some of the big names would pass at this point, but no such luck. I don't know who this is but she persisted in wearing her helmet all lopsided and didn't look enamoured with the sand one bit!

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We managed to squeeze ourselves onto the big dune, but unfortunately the scaffolding was somewhat in the way. Nevertheless, here are Marianne Vos and Daphny van den Brand. They would finish in this order and compared to most of the rest, looked awesomely good.

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With the excitement growing and the crowds now huge, it was time to set up camp for the men's elites. We managed to find quite a good little spot where we could see the field go past three times per lap, as well as the big screen, which shone out against a mightily dark sky:

 

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We found ourselves utterly surrounded by an extended family of Sven Nys fanatics, in front of some Bart Wellens fanatics (of which there were many). I'd read about Belgian cross and seen it on the web but the total commitment and passion of the fans left me staggered. It made me giggle to think how odd it would seem to go to a race in the UK with a special rain coat on, emblazoned with 'Kristian House' or 'Russell Downing'. It just wouldn't be done! In its partisan nature it was like a football crowd but much more friendly. I mused on whether some burly Nys hooligan might pick a fight when I bleated 'Niiiieeeels!' against the roar of 'SVVEENN!!!!' but not a bit of it. Good natured drunkenness abounded. The atmosphere as the race got underway was absolutely electric. I didn't get many pictures of the top riders as I was too busy yelling at them, but here is A Speed Blur Otherwise Known As Albert:

 

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Thijs Al:

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Ghostly John Gadret. I rather like this actually!

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Some other people...

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I was annoyed about the result (I like Stybar but I like Albert more!) but Stybar looked fabulous, and so immensely powerful on the sandbanks where he was clearly more adept than anyone else. A well deserved win I'd say, and it was an exciting race all round with groups splitting and reforming constantly before the four up sprint at the end.

Race done and dusted, we reunited with our pro snapper and briefly visited the podium, although I found I was far too short to get any photos of it. Then began mission number 2: the search for a nice beer and a supermarket sweep of De Panne for some of this. There were four jars. We bought one each and all paid separately. The face of the checkout lady was a picture.

First impressions of live Belgian cross? Totally, utterly, crazily fabulous. Before I went, I wanted a cross bike. Now I need a cross bike.

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