Robert Moore produced his best performance yet to take a position on the podium at the SERRL Toachim House Grand Prix. Full results are here and Rob’s full report from the weekend is now online.

I first thought about heading to Roubaix when my beer fuelled enthusiasm got the better of me and I offered to run the Easter Classic, and then realised I would miss Flanders. More recently, I thought I should spend my pennies on some more family-oriented excursion but as it drew closer, the idea got more appealing. The cycling Gods then said “Do it” when the other 2/3 of the family decided to go to Wales for a long weekend. Result!

So David W and I finally agreed to nail this last Tuesday. About two mins after I booked the ferry, Andrew also threw his hat into the ring and we had a budget trip to northern France in the bag. £25 for a return ferry trip, a crappy hotel and a bit of diesel to get us there and back. Ace!

So we catch the 9pm Friday night ferry to Calais and 90 mins later we’re trawling a fairly dubious looking housing scheme looking for a fairly dubious sounding hotel which is surrounded by a huge fence that wouldn’t have looked out of place at a high security prison. It’s cold, it’s drab and the bar is shut. The rooms are about the size of the cupboard under our stairs at home but, it’s okay, the bikes fit in the shower cubicle.

We get to bed about 1am, we rise at 5.30. By 6am, Andrew’s found a kettle and we’re, cough, “feasting” on porridge, muffins, dodgy coffee from a sachet and chocolate milk. 30 mins later and we’re speeding up the A25 towards Dunkerque. By 8.30, we’re parked up outside the Roubaix Velodrome.

For ease of logistics, we’re signed up for the 153km route on the sportive. Our route takes a south-easterly spin from the Roubaix velodrome down to the Arenberg Forest to begin the last 18 secteurs of cobbles. So the the first 50km of riding is (a) flat (b) without cobbles and (c) on this occasion has a tailwind. For 50kms we’re averaging about 34km/h and it’s erm, rather easy. We form a small peloton with fours chaps from a French team who contribute zero effort to our cause but we plough on and, just like the pros, even speed up as we head towards the Trouee de Arenberg. Eventually, David decides he doesn’t want to hit the cobbles with a full bladder so we call a halt to towing four burly French chaps onto the cobbles and take a break.

As the first part of our parcours is different to the pro race, we turn onto the cobbles at 90 degrees rather than full pelt over the railway crossing. There’s also a van on the road so we couldn’t have ridden faster if we’d wanted. But the cobbles loom and off we go. Now I walked along the Arenberg cobbles when the Tour finished in Wallers in 2010 and, at a glance, they don’t look THAT bad but riding really is a different thing. You hear the stories of riders suggesting the stones have been thrown onto the road from a helicopter and think that’s bollocks but it’s actaully not too far off the mark. The cobbles are big and the gaps between them even bigger, none of them are straight and they look sharp. I’m also in the wrong gear and I’m wrestling with my handlebars to try and change so I can pedal at a lower cadence and increase speed. It takes about two mins to gain control on the hoods and flick the gear lever, and my heart rate is through the roof. 3kms and what feels like a lifetime later and we’re back on the tarmac. Never has a non-descript trunk road been so welcome and felt so silky smooth.

After three or four secteurs I felt as if I was starting to get to grips with the cobbles. My legs felt good and, dare I say it, I was working out a reasonable technique (must be the CX racing!!). Hey, it was fun! 11 secteurs later we’re flying but make the mistake of stopping for food. Five waffles and a banana later (don’t ever go there, kids) and I feel sick as we continue bumping along the farm tracks of northern France. The next three secteurs are horrible as, I assume, the sugar rush is making my head throb. By now my hands are also numb and I’m struggling to grip the bars and point the bike in the right direction. Yep, it’s Hell.

Four secteurs to go and there are two (English) idiots flying down the crown of the cobbled road in the wrong direction straight at Andrew and I’m convinced they’re about to ride into him. The avoid us but ride off with a stream of expletives. It’ll be a shame if the increased interest in cycling in the UK attracts these people and spoils it’s appeal.

Three to go and it’s the Carrefour de L’Arbre. Maybe not quite as bonkers as the Arenberg but still 5 star bonkers. I’m bouncing along one of the most gruesome “roads” in all of France, I’m shattered and I need a wee. It’s not a good feeling but I’m determined to carry on riding down the middle of some of the nastiest stones you’ll ever see. We reach the end and it’s relief in more ways than one. Two to go and it’s nearly done. One to go and I’m really starting to get grumpy. This is supposed to be an easy section but my tiredness and numb hands see me bouncing across the road like an Euskatel rider. But we’ve paid hard cash for this so unlike the MTB-ers or the guys riding in the grass at the side of the road, we’ll do this properly right until the end to get maximum cobble value for our money.

We’re almost back in Roubaix. After a slow roll through the town traffic we enter the velodrome with Andrew on my wheel just like Fabian and Sep this afternoon. Unlike Fabian or Sep, I stop to take off my gilet so I can display my Phoenix jersey as we circle the track and cross the finish line.

Amazing stuff. It’s becoming a cliche but in what other sport can you do as ther pros do? You can’t have a kickabout at Wembley, nor have a knock at Lord’s. But you can ride the cobbles and roll round the Cote d’Azur of the Roubaix velodrome (it’s steep y’know!) and it was all rather good.

All that was left was to have a shower in the fabled Roubaix shower block. But there’s no water on and there’s a marshal keeping an eye on things. It’s also bleddy freezing in there. So we have a look round, pack the car and race back to Calais on our last diesel fumes to catch the ferry by the skin of our teeth. Shame to feel so tired today and miss the Hell of the North. But a fantastic trip and, once I get the feeling back in my hands, I might even do it again.”

Steven Drew

“There was a lot of scare mongering leading up to the start about whether it was a good idea to ride a tt bike or not, I decided to stick to what I know and with only 2 corners presenting an issue (after getting to ride it a bit before the race) and stay on the tt bike.

I managed a 17:58, really happy with that as it put me in 3rd spot and only 10 seconds off the winner. Great start to the weekend! Next up the criterium…”

Stage 2
2pm cyclopark 1hr30 circuit race.

“The organisers decided to run this anti clockwise which was a bit of a spin ball. The finish line was after climbing up the lazy s bend into a headwind. As such it made the race very tough from the start, almost immediately it was strung out and gaps appeared. I managed to get to the front after a lazy start. After 10 minutes or so a break went with a lot of strong guys including Jake Martin and a few other elites. I’d decided that if I was going to do anything I was going to join it. As I was cornering better than most I got in the group and we were away taking spades out of the chasers.

Jake as ever was determined to ride off and timed to perfection attacked into the headwind and got clear. I tried a few times to do the same but just didn’t have the kick to get away. I did however end up dragging the break around for most of the race. With 15 minutes left I decided to sit in and hope for the best knowing full well that I’d be smashed in a sprint.

I went a bit early so I could string it out and drag back at the finish, rather than just finishing last. Managed about 7th place I think but need to see the results. We lost over 1:30 to Jake who won, but gained loads over the chasers. I think I may still be 3rd but waiting for the results.

So happy to finally know how my form is going, feeling great for tomorrow’s road race, should be amazing!”

Stage 3.
Chilham 10:00am 140km road race.

“Today was amazing and awful all rolled into one. It was so fast on the first 2 laps with attack after attack, there was the main climb which was very long with a cross wind section just after a steep ramp only a third of the way up. This was where all the suffering happened. Every time I went up it I thought I wouldn’t finish the race.

Jake Martin was also riding his heart out with no support as race leader, I tried to help him on the first 2 laps but there came a point where this would simply be suicide for my result, so decided to sit in eat and recover.

With 2 laps to go a large break was 40 seconds up the road, when we went up the climb most of the GC contenders had a real go and gapped me at the cross wind section. Naturally they were annoyed when I came back dragging everyone back, but that’s all I could do. They did it again on the next kick but this time when I dragged it all back again I just kept going. They all sat up and I got clear, amazed by this I just got my head down and carried on up the climb.

So I had Francis Cade on my wheel and he didn’t do much work, but as he wasn’t a threat to me on GC it was fine. I felt great and rode faster than I thought I’d ever be able to at this stage in a 140km race, we managed to bridge to the group ahead within half a lap! At this point there was 1 lap to go, I felt the group was going too slow and loosing time so I dragged it over the climb for the last time. Finally I sat in for the final climb realising that George Harper was present who was next up on the GC.

Amazingly I still had good legs and on the final drag (which seems to go on forever) Francis got clear and held on for 4th and I kept a gap of about 2-3 seconds and came 5th! (results of stage not confirmed yet)

In hindsight I was still 2 seconds off 2nd on gc to George and only 16 seconds off winning the event! So close but not quite.

Over the moon with the result though first ever podium at a stage race and best result so far in an E/1/2/3 field, hopefully this is the start for my best season yet.”

Report from Rob Moore.

Read the full, fantastic report from our own Pete Johnstone of his experience at the Tour of Flanders.

“So here I am in Brugge. West Flanders. Today world capital of pain.
Population, hardnuts.
Race faced, mean, majestic, Sparticus glides by. Behind Radar iridium, eyes
focused.
Boonen by contrast seems relaxed as he chats casually to G. Pretending not
to notice the massed ranks of hollerin’, whoopin’ loonies all around.
Heaving, straining to grab his attention. To share in his light.

The atmosphere is mental and building. Layer upon layer, as each combatiter
rides the barriered gauntlet from bus to registration. The canny amongst
them,time their arrival on stage to coincide with the climax to the
oomla-esque bands massacring of an array
eighties rock ballad chorus’s. Sure that the compare will not interapt his
fifteen minutes of tonsil busting to nab them for interview. The crowd go
nuts as their guys take to the stage. Pantomime booes cascading down on
Wallonians and French alike.
And then, so suddenly theyre off. Gone. Riders and voyeurs alike. Off to
Outenade by any means possible. The Market square returned to the tourists.
But what a journey they have. I know. I rode it yesterday.

Since I signed up for the 259km full route, much has happened.
Illness, idleness, work arrived. Spring did not. Training i am ashamed to
say was heavily curtailed. Indeed i have only been put on the road twice
since xmas, both times dropped by the Sunday morning gallop.
I am seriously worried I am not going to be able to make this.
I chose the full route coz, well i had to really. If i’d done anything else
it would have been unfinished business and i’d have to return. And I didnt
want that. There are too many new sportifs to experience without having to
return to the past. Better get it out the way. Then move on to pasture new
I comforted myself with the thought that it was not really 259kms. Just two
stages, the second, 160 (which is do-able without training) coupled with a
100km warm up. And it couldnt be as bad as last years Grand Raid. Could it?

This was my first sportif with family,so as not to disturb their sleep come
race day, I dressed, made and ate breakfast while sat on the Lav in the
ensuite. The Sky bus this was not.
There is no mass official start here. With 16000 riding all routes, the
organisers are understandably keen not to send all off at once.
Registration at the town footie stadium was effortless and then we were
off. Or were we?
Most, me included thought we were being directed back to the Market square
where id earlier seen gaggles of riders collating themselves. It was only
when spying the city limits did i clock we had actually started and where
en route.

The pace for the first hundred and twenty kilometres was quick but
comfortable at between 33-40kph. Wind and group make up the variables, as i
jumped from train to train. The shear numbers and flat terrain meaning the
usual grading of riders into groups of comparable ability took four times
the length as on a mountainous parcour. Street furniture and over eager
pushy pillocks the main dangers as the route took us south over a variety
of road types. Few of them inspiring. I knew it would be like this, I was
not concerned. Just put my head down, tucked in and rode. Saving myself for
latter.

And then 120 something kilometres in Stage 1 ended.
My group disintergarated on the Tiegemberg, and me with it.
I limped on, alone through the grey, occasionally picking up stragglers to
join my train.
The wind was harsh, swirling. Rain threatening, the cold stripping the
feelings from my toes.

A feed station allowed me to meet up with some friends made en route. A
puncture sustained seconds later saw them disappear up the road. Bastards
I set off, refuelled, legs only whimpering midly. A short run along the
river, sweep right, long straight, sharp left. Koppenberg.

Now Flanders would begin. Funny thing this. Its not that bad. Neither for
that matter are any of the bergs. Hard, sure but do-able and not that
dissimilar to swains lane with a chamois full of marbles. (what you mean
you havent tried it) The Koppenberg and Patenberg are probably the worst,
the condition of the pave making staying up a balance between skill and
luck. A fall on the koppenberg, and there were many, resulted in a mass
pile up i just managed to weave round. On the Moleberg, the same. In fact
the woefully underprepared, unfit, obese and generally useless charity and
new year resolution herberts entering the little course with zero
preparation, constitute the events major hazard. Later some gobshite at the
finish almost took me out when raising his hands above his head to
celebrate completion, without considering the ability to ride no handed was
probably an advisable trait to be in possession of. Anyway I digress.

What is bad however is the cobbles. Not those on the bergs, but those on
the flat. Those i’d never really noticed on the TV. Magnus, Kelly, et all
will tell you how to ride them. We all know….hands loose, big gear, ride
the ridge. Bollocks. Its all bollocks. They hurt, they hurt alot and they
are really annoying and they hurt and there are lots of them and what ever
you do, however you ride they hurt.

So to conclude.This is an amazing day out riding in the tyremarks of
legends. And strangely not that hard. The event is huge, probably too big
if truth be told but needs to be experienced by all. And is so close its
crazy not to chuck the bikes in the boot, ferry, train whatever and go
enjoy. Hell theres even another race the next day if you get board of the
bikes, beer, chips and chocolate.”

Report from Pete Johnston.