This picture makes me think, “There’s a right way to ride the cobbles, and a wrong way.” Those riders who have raced on the cobbles of Flanders and Northern France will tell you that riding the stones fast takes a “something” that can’t be taught. The trick seem to be finding a subtle space between steering and guiding the bike where the riders coax their machine through the terrain to find it’s own way without too much interference from the pilot.
Riding over these brutal roads is an honor that I have yet to receive, but I have had the privilege to live in several cities with some semi-legitimate cobbles, even if they were not borne from France or Belgium. St. Paul, MN has a few roads where, if you’re willing to break a few rules suggesting the direction of traffic, you can climb some good, bumpy hills. Seattle, on the other hand, has an entire neighborhood wherein all the steepest hills are still bedecked in stones from the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. These are rough, nasty roads and have taught me a thing or two about what does and doesn’t work when riding the cobbles.
Foremost among the things that work is finding the harmony between the size of your gear (cadence) and the speed the bike is bouncing over the stones. I would call it “sympathetic vibration” if it weren’t for the decidedly uncomfortable feeling the whole ensemble gives – there is nothing “sympathetic” about it. A bit more the opposite, actually. When you get it right, however, it is somehow beautiful in it’s awesome, harmonic brutality.
There was one day a few weeks ago when I was doing hill repeats on one of these climbs when everything clicked. The machine, the gear, my rhythm, the amount of The V I was able to dish out, everything came together to form a jarring, rattling unit of cohesion. There was a group of pedestrians on the roadside walking down the hill at the time; they stopped to watch and – dare I say – cheered. I was instantly in Flanders; it was a Great Moment on the Bike.
Yesterday, I turned off the same strip of asphalt onto the same cobbled climb and the harmony that had previously attracted a group’s attention was replaced with a sensation of panic as I fought to keep myself upright. My bike hit the stones in a manner I can only describe as “wrong”; I dumped my speed instantly, struggled with the gear, and nearly fell before barely righting myself and moving into a zone where every turn of the pedals was a struggle tinged with the bitter taste of weighing my odds of getting my foot out of the pedal in time to keep from falling should the last iota of speed and coordination I possessed leave me. No one was around to view this spectacle, thank Merckx.
It all comes down to the rhythm you find on these nasty stones, and this photo shows Jakob Fulsang succinctly demonstrating the difference between the “right” and the “wrong” rhythm. It’s almost as if the arrow mounted on that clumsy bit of scaffolding was set up for the very purpose of pointing out the the wrong approach to riding the pavé.
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Dude - cheered by pedestrians - awesome. That usually only happens after getting doored by a taxi.
Great post. Painful pic. The "right" and "wrong" rhythm deal hits home for me while mountain biking. Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't. Some days you float over the roots, other days they grab you with unseen forces. On good days, logs pass under your chainring with a swift hop, on bad days it all comes to a grinding halt.
Its all part of the mystery of cycling. Good days and bad days cannot be predicted.
Frank and other Velominati,
I on the other hand live within driving distance of the previously mentioned famed cobbles. I have let everyone down by having not ridden them yet. Believe me I've had more than enough time to do so.
This weekend is a long one for me. Expect photos and a short ride report sometime next week.
I'll let everyone know if I get right, wrong or just lose my bidons.
I've not ridden on any pavé before. Cobbles yes, the streets of Paris yes. And the cobbles of Durham, which in one place are just a load of round pebbles chucked in some sticky stuff... quite scary going down them.
The rhythm is a function of speed which is a function of power. You can hit a secteur at pace and feel the float but if it goes on for too long (Oude Kwaremont, Carrefour L'Arbre), or if its goes uphill in a decidedly unpleasant manner (Paterberg, Koppenberg) it soon becomes apparent if you are peaking in two months (rather than then and there). As soon as you slow down you start pedalling squares, feeling every stone, having to hold your bars in a vice like grip while the front end wants to Fuglsang you into the kinderkop. Having ridden both P-R course and the cobbled bit of RVV, I can assure you that the chaps who win these events are truly beasts with massive guns. We are truly not worthy.
Grew up with a nice 16%-20% cobbled climb not too far away, I was always two months from peaking riding that bastard.
I have also had the pleasure of riding various sectors of the Roubaix pave, including Arenberg. Never had any problem finding the rhythm on those stones, it helps being big, you bounce less. I'm sure I would have struggles more had I ridden anywhere near the distance they do in the races.
My thought is that you have to be able to be on top of the gear if and ever you need to stand, but still be able to... er... spin while seated, and be prepared to shift your weight when needed. The art of gripping the bars, and the subsequent formation of your wrists, elbows, and shoulders can make or break you. Loose, but firm hands; elbows will be your '93 Rock Shox Judy suspension, and shoulders must be able to take as much shit as they can handle, and find time to relax on the tarmac.
The cobbles and I have a bad romance going on. Every time we are away, we long for each other. The roughness of the ride, the feel of gliding over each one, praying it will be gentle enough on me that I do not flat... Yet when we meet, it is like we cannot wait to get away from each other. Quarrelsome stints of rutted out sections that could be mistaken for XC babyhead rocks in the mud make me curse the pave like it was a cheating lover. It is okay, the cobbles can take my abuse, and usually dish it out fivefold.
The pave is so crafty and desirable; yet I despise it. But I oh so love it.
This article sucks... no mention of Charlie Watts or Bill Wyman at all.
@Brett
That's because the Stones suck, wankers, all of them.
@Dan O
That's something I always felt the Bridgestone philosophy was about, ride a small light bike that can go over the obstacles. You learned to ride in a good, smooth way that let the bike jitter along while your body absorbed a lot of the bumps and you pushed a big gear smoothly.
We're planning a Velominati trip to the Cobbles this Spring, and I look forward to being unpleasantly brought to reality on how different that is from riding off-road.
@j.king
Can't wait for the report. Make sure you re-read Beer in the Bidon before departing. Something with NO2 is probably a good start.