They don’t call Paris-Roubaix the Hell of the North for nothing

The 2013 Paris-Roubaix is shaping up to be an epic challenge for professional cyclists.  One of the oldest races, it is arguably the toughest and most prestigious one-day contest in cycling. 

Northern France is basically flat.  Paris-Roubaix’s difficulty comes from 21 sections on narrow cobblestone roads, the pave’, that come near the end of the race.

I rode the cobblestone sections of Paris-Roubaix in 1996.  It was all Fred Sheppard's idea.  Fred had made the mental and physical leap from Green Bay to Roubaix.  He'd embraced "The Hell of the North" and made friends in France and Belgium.  I recruited my Gen-X buddy from the Twin Cities, Jay "Hollywood" Henderson, who lived cycling, Paris-Roubaix in particular, more than anyone i'd ever met. 

We stayed in Oostkamp in Belgium.  Rooms and beer were cheap.  It was raining the night before the ride as we got together for a pep talk with Fred's friend Leon van Daele who won Paris-Roubaix in 1958.  Hoping for technique advice I asked him about riding the cobblestones in the rain.  "If it rains," he said taking a long drag off of his cigarette, "you will fall." 

Blessedly, it was sunny the next morning.  Joining us were Paul and Pierre Naessens, Leon's brothers in law.  Paul drove a support van and Pierre attacked the stones with us.  We started in Troisvilles in the town square. 

A quick latte at the classy wood paneled cafe on the corner got the bowels activated for the ever important pre-ride dump.  Then clopping on by bike cleats I slipped into the men's room where I discovered a facility that surely prompted the saying, "The French copy no one and no one copies the French," the porcelain hole-in-the-floor toilet.   Enough of a #2 challenge normally, I would have to balance my metal bike cleats on the raised foot pads, no bigger than normal work shoes.  And since I had my warm up tights on, which lowered became like a rubber band around m calves, I had to squat in balance and tension.  I was doomed to fail at the chosen task.  I felt like I gave it 10 minutes, but the combo of stress and thoughts of the consequences of a slip kept the expectant load in situ.  I finally gave up and resigned myself to pounding fudge on the cobbles all the way to Roubaix.  Talking to Paul before we rolled he said, "I didn't think there were any still left.  You know I've never been able to bring myself to use one."

So, into the valley of death rode the four dumb ones, Fred, Hollywood, Pierre and moi.  The cobble sections are rated as to difficulty.  I'd trained by riding miles on the road shoulder rumble strip at home.  Didn't prepare me for the real thing at all.  Watching Paris-Roubaix on TV you wonder why riders crash on perfectly straight sections.  Get on the pave' and you find out.  The randomness of the stones is part of the diabolical course that make Paris-Roubaix the toughest one-day race in cycling.  The pave' tries to throw you.  You don't know if you're on a road or a rodeo bull.

Stopping at the far end of the Arenberg Forest we met second year pro Stuart O'Grady.  The Australian was on the French Gan team who were waiting for their support van to show and he was probably glad to have some Anglos to talk to.  He was unknown to us then and we learned that the World Championship stripes on his jersey sleeve were for pursuit on the track.  As his team rolled out I heard him call, "Hey Mate."  I looked up and he tossed me one of his water bottles as a souvenir.  He made a life long fan that day.  And in 2007 we were there to see him win, the only Australian ever to do so.

Riding on, Jay and I got separated from Fred and Pierre.  In fact we got good and lost.  The course was also marked for "Paris-Roubaix VTT," a mountain bike version run the day before the pro race and we'd strayed onto that route.  We knew we were screwed as the cobbles deteriorated into barely findable tracks through farm fields.  We came across a farm family who, except for a tractor and cigarettes, could have been out of a Bruegel painting.  We don't speak French and of course they didn't speak English, but we were able convey that we were looking for the Paris-Roubaix route.  This set off 10 minutes of animated banter as the father, bobbing lit Galoise hanging from lip, mother in her head scarf and field work skirt, and teenage son in his hay stack hat, pointed to various spots on the horizon recalling epic moments from the race while names like LaSalle, Moser poured our as they laughed missing tooth laughs.  Finally they traced around to straight ahead and said "Paris-Roubaix deux cents meter." We'd rejoin the pro race route in 200 yards.

Dark clouds were rolling in so we had to crank.  Drizzle started falling, enough to give us a hint of how more treacherous the stones got with a little grease.  The rain passed and Jay kept spirits up with his best Phil Liggett machine gun commentary impersonation.  "Approaching the blue stone pave' at Bourgelle, the veteran Van Valkenberg and neo-pro Henderson continue their assault at the sharp end of the race.  How can they keep such a gap on the stars of Paris-Roubaix massed chock 'o block at the front of the peloton?"  He even managed to mispronounce racers names differently several times in the same sentence in true Ligget style.  Near Roubaix we found the traffic island that Andre Tchmil bunny hopped completely confusing the motorcycle TV photographer on his way to winning in '94.  Jay bunny hopped it too.

We got to the Roubaix velodrome and no Fred or Pierre.  After a bit they showed and we staged a sprint with Hollywood's arms raised win in the style of his hero, 4-time winner and Flemish cycling legend, Roger de Vlaeminck.  The ride proved to me that suffering and defeating the Hell of the North was worth if and I could put up with a lot of crap to do it.  

As of this past spring riders can sign up for the Paris-Roubaix Challenge, a "touriste" or "grand fondo" type ride.  Friends Rob Koebert and May Houtaker rode and loved it.  Rock on. 

On race day in '96 we understood why Paris-Roubaix is so great.  The toughest cyclists in the world want to win.  To win is to be a cycling god.  Unlike Tour de France, all the marbles are up for grabs in one day.  They say over a million people line the roads.  It's about sacrifice and suffering.  You see it most on the riders towards the back, faces covered with dirt that can't mask the pain.

That day the Mapei Team ruled.  They had three Italians, including the '95 champ the late Franco Ballerini, and Belgian Johan Museuw,  Jay and I got driven to 9 spots including the velodrome by a father/son team who had it wired.  We had the special Press sticker on the windshield and entering a village the gendarms would stop other traffic and wave us through.  Unbelievable.  Ballerini flatted and the remaining three Mapeis broke away and entered the velodrome alone.  Museuw got the win and the Flemands went wild.  Belgians have won the race more than any other nation. 

I’ve been to Paris-Roubaix seven times now.  They estimate a million people turn out beside the road to watch the racer flash by.   This year TREK-Leopard rider Fabian Cancellara is the favorite after his decisive win at Tour of Flanders last Sunday.  Cancellara has also won Paris-Roubaix twice before.  In the Hell of the North there is a lot more than great riding form needed to win.  Tactics, team work and maybe most of all luck put you at the top as much as conditioning. 

Last year’s winner, Belgian Tom Boonen, won’t be there.  His luck ran out Sunday when he crashed hard in the Tour of Flanders.  Team BMC rider Thor Hushovd wants to be the first Norwegian to win and he’ll be aided by his young American teammate Taylor Phinney who has won the under-23 version twice.  Don’t count out the Belgians though.  Like I said, they think they own it and their fans pour over the border like Leffe bier.  If you have cable you can watch it Sunday morning on NBC Sports.