A long 72 kilometers

Koppenberg in Infrared. Photographed by my brother-in-law (dreambrother photography).

72 kilometers does not seem like much. At least it didn’t to me. I have already put in 1,600k this year, and raced three times the week before leaving for Belgium. 

72 kilometers? Easy. Or so I thought.

After seven days in Belgium, my two traveling partners and I were stoked at the opportunity to join in the fray. For six days, we had driven hundreds of kilometers in both Belgium and the Netherlands, drooling over the ample bike lanes and culture that so strongly centers around cycling.

The day could not have been any more perfect, with the sun blazing and temperatures hovering around 65°F. The wind was significant enough to get the true Belgium experience, but not so fierce as to make for a miserable day in the saddle.

We picked up our Eddy Merckx rentals and De Ronde maps and set out to conquer the official Orange Route, which covered 72 kilometers and many famous cobbled climbs, including the Oude Kwaremont, Kruisberg, Paterberg, Koppenberg, Steenbeekdries, Taaineberg and the Eikenberg. The bike was a beauty, and its orange color complimented my team kit quite well I thought. The bike also had three rings. Something I was not accustomed too, but thanked God for by the end of the day.

Not even a half-kilometer into the route and we were at the foot of the Kluisberg, a non-cobbled 1k climb with a max gradient of 14.5% and an average grade of 7.2%. For some, this is a molehill. But living in Chicago, the biggest hill I ride is a bridge that spans the Chicago River. This, combined with the remnants of the previous night’s Belgian beer and less than a kilometer in my legs, and the Kluisberg felt like Ventoux. Thank god it was not cobbled.

Typical Belgian road.

With the first climb out of the way, we settled into a nice groove for the next 15k. The sun was shining, we were riding on ridiculously small roads, and the car traffic ceded to us, not the other way around. This part of the ride also exposed us to one aspect of Belgium cycling that I don’t get in Chicago: manure. 

Albeit a beautiful country, Belgium smells like shit. Literally. And it’s not just the bland but pungent smell of manure I am used to from driving back and forth between Chicago and St. Louis. Belgium manure is different and varied. It seemed like every time we or the wind changed directions, an entirely new smell of manure would hit you. It was not bothersome, but rather amazing that cow shit has so many different aromas.

Jon and I at the local tavern/coffee shop

After about 20k of riding, we decided to make our first coffee stop. If you’ve never been to Belgium, there are not really many coffee shops, just taverns that open at 9am and serve coffee. Still, not many people are seen drinking coffee at these establishments, but it is rather common to see the locals drinking beer at 10am.

After coffee, it was off to Oude Kwaremont and its 2.5k of cobbles. Max grade was only 11.6%, but the distance was a monster and since this was our first exposure to cobbles, it was a challenge to say the least.

Oude Kwaremont goes through a small town center a little more than half-way through.

After conquering Kwaremont, we found ourselves off the marked trail and lost in the charming, but confusing town of Ronse. We were looking for the next climb, the Kruisberg. Unfortunately, there also is a Kluisbos, Kluisberg and Kluisbergen within 20 kilometers of the Kruisberg. We asked for directions three different times, and got pointed three different places. 

In the end, we probably added another 15k and two challenging climbs to the day. We finally found the Kruisberg after about an hour of searching. Nothing special, just another bump in the road that seemed simple at the beginning of the ride, but started to add up by the end of the day.

After the confusion that Ronse delivered, we made stop number two to fuel up on meats, cheeses and beer.

Jonathan and I fueling up for the Koppenberg

After lunch and refreshments, our minds were on the Koppenberg, even though we still had the Paterberg on tap. We somehow got turned around again (a common theme throughout our 10 days in Belgium), and were convinced we accidentally skipped the Patenberg. This was not the case though as a blind right hand turn on a fast downhill placed us immediately on the cobbles of this short (361 meters) but wicked steep climb with a max gradient of 20.3%.

Paterberg = short, steep and surprising

For the first 50 meters of the climb, I don’t know what was louder: the eff bombs flying out of all of our mouths at the shock of hitting this wall or the wailing and hammering of our chains as we all tried to drop through the gears as fast as possible. I was amazed that none of us snapped our chains because each of us probably went from the big ring to the little ring while going up hill.

After this lesson learned, we spent the next 10k preparing for the Koppenberg. I don’t know what else I can add about this fabled climb that has not already been said. Pulling up to it, you are overwhelmed with a combination of excitement and terror. 

Me before going in the hurt locker.

After stopping for the obligatory picture, I got a good running start and hit the climb. Like most of these climbs, you get in a groove, get confident, then you hit a ramp that shatters any good sensations you were having. 

Yes, the cobbles really are that rough.

This was by far the steepest thing I’ve ever ridden, and I must say, it was a bit terrifying to see your front tire so easily lifting off the ground at every small bump. And considering I was on cobbles, I spent most of the climb wondering if it was possible to fall straight backwards on a bike. Fortunately, I remained upright and finished the climb without touching down.

Realizing how much I’ve already written, I’ll spare you the details of the rest of the day. The weather remained beautiful, the roads were small and enjoyable, and the cobbles continued to suck every ounce of energy out of you.

I’ll finish this up with a few thoughts about what it’s like riding on Belgian cobbles. Simply put, it’s exciting, scary, jarring and most of all, draining. By the end of the day, not only are your legs shattered, but your arms, core and mind are equally as run down. 

Surprisingly I enjoyed going up the cobbles much more than riding a flat sector. Going up, there was a certain amount of control you possessed over the situation. If you made a mistake on the line you were taking or the gear you were in, you could slow the tempo and recover.

Riding a flat section, you completely felt at the mercy of the road. You had to be 100% committed and confident that you were going to dominate. On flat sections, it’s all about power.  If you go in at 80% and pause for one second, your speed will plummet and in no time, you’re getting bounced around at 15kph. The damage that these flat sections inflict on the arms and hands is monumental. I can’t even describe it. 

A successful day is rewarded with Belgian beer.

By the end of the day, we were all extremely cashed and very thankful we chose the 72k route instead of the 80k or 114k route. For any cyclist and cycling fan, this trip is a must. Experiencing the route gave me a completely new respect for the suffering pros go through.

I’ll definitely be back to Belgium. I’ll have more coming soon about the races, and most importantly, the beer.

Photo Credits: My brother-in-law Jonathan (dreambrother photography) took the first one and the rest are me.