Paris Roubaix Race Report

By: Brendan O’Brien

“Your right James, get used to saying it Greg”, “I’ll never f**in say that, turn left here ..”

and such were the adventures of Frodo, Gandalf, Jameling and Casso at the Hell of the North, aka, the Paris Roubaix Challenge – 148km cycle covering 30k of cobbles across 19 sections.

A bleary 7am flight to Paris, followed by the hauling 4 bike boxes through 3 terminals to pick up a mis-located van culminated in the arrival at our hotel in the epicenter of French culture –between McDonalds, Tesco & QuickFit in the industrial zone of a small French town!

A dropping of the bags, assembling of bikes and out for our baptism on the famous cobbles …. and holy b jaysuz what a jack hammering – while Casso was like a crackhead discovering a poppy field – the rest of us considered more sensible options to overcoming the cobbles – “ We’re all going on a gutter holiday” the new theme tune (‘gutter’ referring to cycling the rattle free dirt strip on the edge of the cobbles).

Back for some food, wine and bit of chit chat with the locals, causing the local chef concern enough to mark his territory, and up the following morning for some logistical hoops.

Following Gergoire, the human compass, we cycled the scenic route to the registration in Saint Quentin and then off to the finishing city of Roubaix to dump the van for getting back after the race.

So an 80k windy cycle and 5 hours sleep made for perfect preparation for d-day.

And were off – blessed with a clear blue sky, we cycle the flat section to cobble section 1 and as expected Casso blasts off like the Concorde resurrected and the rest of us begin our official ‘gutter’ holidays.

We regroup at the first food station – my legs are not waking up while Greg realizes air pressure is a good idea – James sampling the crusty bread and a decree from Casso Kelly “All must embrace the pure and holy rattlings of each mid section of the cobbles” – oh shit, no more gutter holidays!

So repentant, we cycle onwards, soon arriving at the famous and deadly Arenberg forest – the ‘babies heads’ of cobbles.

We blast down the middle as aggressively as we can – so bumpy that gear changes are a gymnastic effort, the body shaken to its core – fingers start to cramp, wrists, biceps, and triceps writhing at every vibration, legs fading ….. but Team Piranha steams on – picking up people on the flat sections – a train of 20+ at one point before a scything at the subsequent cobble section – and the Gods smile intermittently with Casso Kelly puncture stops – breeeeeather.            

Finally we arrive together at the velodrome for our victorious lap, Casso finishing flat on his 4^th puncture. We have officially conquered the sacred cobbles – tshirt/medal in hand and the honorary usage of the famous showers, (where each cubicle has a marking of a previous winner) we head back to base. The industrial zone is in Sunday shutdown so we have to make do with some 3 euro wine (piss) in the hotel foyer – calls for Mick’s bar in the neighboring town are soon sleepily sounded out.

A few final pics of the cobbles where young Jameling becomes a cobblestone thieveling – after much dissuading he is appeased with course signage – off to the airport to get lost among the terminals and a taxi escort to find a fuel station.

Amazing weekend, legendary cycling experience, Vive le Pave.