The Henk Ballet Classic III

As promised, the director's cut in all its gory details: the return of Henk's Fietstocht, which is now known as the Henk Ballet Classic. Now in its third year, the tour's increase in status was predicted. In fact, next year it will be upgraded to a UCI event on the European continental circuit, with ambitions of becoming a ProTour event in 2009. That's what Henk told me anyway, and as a journalist, I never ever fabricate things.

It was a small, but quality field of eight riders that met in Henk's garage in Ouwegem. Henk Ballet, Philip 'Pippo Pozzato' Boutens, Gunther Petrens (Henk's mechanic), Domien Bracke (physiotherapist and WAOD rider), Jan Hoef, Bert Vertriest (organiser of Davitamon Classic), Peter 'Dario Pieri' Achtergaele, and ik. There were a few dark horses among them, but everyone was clearly prepared for the 100 km tour through the Henegouwen countryside. None of us were familiar with the route, although Henk had reconnoitred it and knew every little twist and turn.

Interestingly (or coincidentally?), the WAOD was holding its national championships in Ouwegem on the same day, so we could watch the field of very fit looking 50 year-olds race around the tough circuit with the aim of becoming national champion for the day. And a nice day it was: 25 plus degrees, no wind, no rain. We set off at 1:00pm and had planned about four hours for the ride, including stops.

We are gathered here today in Henk's garage
© Jeff Jones

Philip Boutens with his Johan Museeuw autographed jersey
© Jeff Jones
Watching the WAOD Championship of the Universe
© Jeff Jones

We made our way towards the Schelde on the back roads, enjoying the afternoon and trying not to get run over by the WAOD broom wagon. Then it was over the bridge at Eine and up towards Mater, which provided me with my first lengthy sector of cobbles for some time, but the wrist handled it well enough. The first of the day's climbs was nestled somewhere around Mater, and although I've ridden most of those roads, this one was totally new. I love that! And I know where it comes out now.

We crossed the main road, and descended towards the next climb, Berg ten Houtte, which is another new one for me. It used to be used in the Ronde van Vlaanderen, but is now fairly quiet. Filip Meirhaeghe lives at the bottom, I believe. It's a tough little climb - quite steep at the bottom, but then flattens out at the top and you end up at the vending machine at Koekamer. One of our number inconveniently had a phone call at the bottom, so I waited for him and we chased back on at the top. The rest waited, which was jolly decent of them.

I know how fast I can go without crashing
© Jeff Jones
Cruisin' through the Flemish countryside
© Jeff Jones

From then on, we followed the end part of the Berchem ride in reverse, through Flobecq and Wodecq, then instead of going up towards Lahamaide, we went straight on in the direction of Ath. Then it was all unchartered territory. It's a rather pleasant part of Belgium to ride in, with lots of quiet small roads, little forests, ups and downs, and so on. Henk didn't miss a turn, although we did a few times.

We eventually stopped for some bevoorading at a vending machine in the vicinity of Moustier. A Coke went down very well, but I was still thirsty so I put in another 80 cents for a Gluck, not knowing what it was, apart from being the cheapest drink. It turned out to be beer, but only 5% strength, so I barely noticed it. Unlike some other times.

Noice
© Jeff Jones
Why am I always at the back?
© Jeff Jones
Bevoorarding
© Jeff Jones

We went a different way home and it was clear that folks were getting tired. We did a climb that was very similar to La Houppe but was nowhere near it, so maybe it was some sort of temporal space shift. En route to the last climb, Gunther suffered a puncture as we went through some stones. It had to happen, but fortunately it was our only mishap of the day. Contrast that with two years ago when we had at least n flats, where n is greater than four.

Puncture time for Gunther and Jan
© Jeff Jones

I tried to get up the last climb quick enough so that I could take pics of everyone, and I almost succeeded, except Henk and Bert were a bit too quick to get in the shot. You can't be both fast and famous!

Gunther comes up the final climb
© Jeff Jones
The autobus
© Jeff Jones

The hills had started to take their toll, but fortunately it wasn't too far (or too windy) to get back to home base in Ouwegem, after a 100 km round trip. Great stuff, and we indulged in a few special recovery drinks that go by the name of "Ename", and come in dark or blond.

Back in the garage in Ouwegem, ready for refreshment
© Jeff Jones
From L to R: Ikke, Philip 'Pippo Pozzato' Boutens, Gunther Petrens (Henk's mechanic), Domien Bracke (physiotherapist and WAOD rider), Henk Ballet, Jan Hoef, Bert Vertriest (organiser of Davitamon Classic), Peter 'Dario Pieri' Achtergaele
© Ilse Stevens

Not dead, just resting

I did write 2/3rds of the Henk Ballet classic before El Tour started, and now I am here. It's...solid work.

Fans of Floyd Landis and Dave Zabriskie should read this interview.

I am now 35. Please send me money.

Banality, II

The Henk Ballet classic will follow in the next edition of bilge. This is a random article of bilge to clear the head from national championships. All results, all the time.

I think the form is coming back, as somehow I managed to 'win' two training bunch sprints in a row. That is strange, as I am not fast, but these were slow sprints that started from a fair way out, so timing is more important than speed. Today we did the Trap Op in 4'51 (36km/h) with the lightest of tailwinds. "Der Goswin" was on the front for the first two thirds, and I took over for the top bit. Der Goswin even led me out in the sprint, and even though when I came off his wheel, it felt like I was riding through a swimming puel, no-one came past. He said it wasn't the intention to lead me out, but I thanked him anyway.

Berchem: Despite the promise of dry weather and 24 degrees, it rained all the way out and all the way back home, but stayed dry during the ride. No Guido or Guy Callens, but Eddy was back. It was mostly him and I doing the work, with Geert d'Hondt doing his share + one other guy. Seven left after Tournai. At Franses, we had to leg it through a go-kart race, and one guy even had a small crash trying to get through the tape. He was OK though.

I've decided that the best way to ride the hills is on the front, as you can go at your own tempo and keep at your threshold. If somebody is stronger than you, it won't really matter as they'll drop you in the end if they want, but at least you don't have to go into the red while following them. If somebody isn't as strong, then they will go into the red following you. So I did every hill on (or off) the front.

Eddy and I were left after Lahamaide, but we caught Versmessen over the top as he'd ridden off while we were waiting for the guy who crashed previously. I still felt OK by the time we got to the Kapelleke, and kept the speed high from the bottom, going a bit into the red by the top. But I looked back and I couldn't see Eddy or Versmessen, so I continued on my own. I think it's important to eat on these rides. But it goes without saying that I blew completely on the way back home, just before that vital vending machine emporium at Oudenaarde, where I also required a Mars bar to go with the Coke. Another wet 30 km home. Wish I'd brought arm warmers!

Danny, the air traffic controller, told me about his training program. It involves a lot of kilometres. 1150 last week and he's going for 1350 this week for a nice round 2500 in two weeks. Strewth. I think I'd be tired after that and wouldn't want to direct planes.

Funny supermarket moment of the week: A man bought a can of Pepsi and a Mars bar and paid for it with some huge denomination note, like 500 euros. OK, small things amuse me.

I seen The Omen this week. I didn't see the original 1976 version, which was probably better, but this one had moments. Damien was a bit too cute to be the Antichrist, so his casting lacked a bit of verisimilitude. The various death scenes were fairly well done. Funny thing was, the next day after I saw it, I went for a ride in my red jersey that I have never worn, ever. I give 4 out of 6.66 stars.

Just like Dick Whittington, I'll be off to Londres again next week, although just for a day. It'll be good to see Lucy and Pete again, albeit for a short time only. Book now and save. But wait, there's more!

JMT

Last week marked my first trip in '06 to see the Old Bill, as well as the Young Lucy and Pete and others. The weather has been good enough and on the weekend, I'd managed to get out for a few late drinks in the great outdoors of Gent with the Reinmeester and the ice cream man, who works in Reinhard's street. We had a couple of free tickets for cocktails, but I found that Tequila, even when mixed with other stuff, still brought back memories. We did not overdo it.

Monday morning, Gent time, saw a 6am start in time to catch Ye Olde Eurostar from Brussel-Zuid. It's more expensive, but more betterer than flying to Heathrow and tubing it back into town. Lucy and Pete live on a dock in the southeast part of London, and after a bit of messing about (Lucy had supplied me with a map of England to find it) I even located their flat. It's a nice little spot, even if the nearby suburbs are a bit of a black hole.

Amazingly, this is London (chez Lucy 'n Pete).
© Jeff Jones

What's the time?

After a bit of unwinding time, Lucy and I headed off to Greenwich, home of the Cutty Sark, Prime Meridian, observatory, maritime museum, park, and at least one deer. It's another one of these London oases that are quite surprising given the surroundings. The Cutty Sark is a decent sized tea clipper and looked interesting, but because we were too cheap to spend the five quid, we didn't go on deck. Instead, we walked up past the Trinity College of Music, where a band of wind and brass instruments were doing their best to clear the building of rats.

Skirting around the heavenly sound of an out of control brass band, we strolled into the Painted Hall, where Lord Nelson lay for three days after his backbone had shot through and he'd been kissed by Hardy. My knowledge of history is approximately equivalent to the skill level of the euphonium players we had just passed. The hall is impressive, even if it was basically only built for the navy to have dinner in. All the columns and ornaments are painted onto the flat walls, and there's a huge trompe l'oeil on the roof depicting Peace and Liberty and the defeat of those filthy French (Louis XIV I think). Every home needs one of these, I reckon.

Just across from the Painted Hall was a chapel, which is one of the most ornately decorated building interiors I've ever seen. Even surpassing my recently repainted flat, which has two shades of blue. It's got a shiny organ too.

The Cutty Sark in nearby Greenwich.
© Jeff Jones

Me trying to keep the cacophony of the nearby Trinity College of Music out of my head.
© Jeff Jones

The Painted Hall, where navy types had their dinner.
© Jeff Jones

Then it was time for some good ol' English hospitality in the form of a sandwich from the Regatta café. And a fine specimen of English cuisine it was too, with the bread aged in the fridge until the right degree of dryness was reached, and Lucy's espresso being sprayed all over the outside of the cup and saucer by an adept hand. You wouldn't get away with that in Belgium or Oz, but when it comes to food, the English do mediocrity down to a 'T'.

Now fortified, we wandered up to the observatory, which affords a fine view of London. There were plenty of schoolkids attempting to run up ahead of us, while complaining about having to lose weight. Lucy filled me in on the latest plans to improve hot school lunches, which have been too crap for too long. Kids shouldn't be enormous.

The observatory at Greenwich is also home of the Prime Meridian, which is where the world's longitude and time is measured from. Pretty cool, eh? So of course I set my watch to GMT + 1 (= Jeff's Mean Time?) and it came in very handy for keeping appointments. The octagon room in the observatory is cool too, and there's a telescope through which you can see Pluto. We checked out all the measuring instruments and learned about the first naval clocks and it was all very interesting. I even bought a stress ball (for my wrist) from the observatory shop. Been looking for one of those for ages. Then we saw a deer and a squirrel in the park while we heard that Japan had scored the first goal against Australia.

Standing on the Prime Meridian, with one foot in each hemisphere. Well, depending on your frame of reference.
© Jeff Jones

A varrah fierce squirrel!.
© Jeff Jones

Come back McGonagall, all is forgiven

We couldn't tarry though, as we had to get up to Norf London for a poetry reading in the evening. That's a moderately epic tube ride, but we bumped into Pete at Highgate and then proceeded to look for the pub. We were armed with the name of the pub (The Flask) and a map, but that was it. We didn't actually know which street it was on. But after some more walking to build up a hard earned thirst, we did manage to locate Ye Olde Pubbe. And a very fine one it was too, especially on a warm day. A nice leafy courtyard and a wooden themed interior with lots of small rooms, but all the windows had been opened to create that open feel. A few pints of Staropramen and a hamburger, and we were set for anything.

Lucy's work friend Lesley was one of those reading, and she'd managed to round up a bit of an audience. It was the first time I've been to one of these, and it was a very informal affair. There were three poets and poetesses at first, but it grew to six by the end. Each would take turns reading their compositions. Most of it was surprisingly good, although there was one slightly serious woman who was all style and no substance, I thought. When she first launched into her poem the words "William McGonagall" flashed across my mind without warning, and I nearly cracked up. And it appeared that I wasn't the only one, as Lucy and Carolyn were trying to look at the ground too. Ooooooooohhhh dear.

I did enjoy most of the rest of the poems though, and there was a hilarious one read by someone called Simon right at the end that had us all going. It was based on a true story of an incongruous relationship that led to a bit of a disaster when he met the family. There was also a Danish ex-newsreader whose poem about her previous job was one I could very much relate too.

By this stage, Mandy had shown up with Dazza and a few of her friends, all celebrating because they had one a wad of cash on the Aussie-Japan match. Four of them had put five pounds each on Australia beating Japan 3-1...That was the result, so they wound up with 460 pounds! People should take Aussies seriously from time to time, especially when there is sport involved :-)

All in all, a good night and we didn't get too tanked on Staropramen.

Lesley prepares to read (she was good and we didn't laugh).
© Jeff Jones

Dazza (L) shows Mandy and friend how to make a hand occarina. The Aussies were on fire after beating Japan 3-1 and winning a lot of pounds sterling.
© Jeff Jones

The V&A

Tuesday's plan was to sleep in, which was accomplished without too much difficulty, and then to visit a couple of museums in town. Pete had the day off too, so we were three. We got the fast boat to Savoy - a far more pleasant way of getting into town - and wandered up to the V&A (Victoria and Albert museum), passing the grand hotel where cousin Essie had her recent wedding reception. From the outside, the V&A is an impressive building in itself, and the cool thing is that it's free. There's a stack of things to see inside, and even doing one floor is almost overload.

We started with a coffee and a piece of Precambrian date loaf and lemon poppyseed cake from the museum café. I was relieved to find that that food standard between Greenwich and Kensington hadn't changed by even one degree. Staleness rules!

After a small Modernism gallery, we visited a vast hall full of silverware, then an even vaster hall full of sculpture repros. Trajan's column, Michelangelo's David, part of the facade of an old Spanish cathedral, and plenty of other religious stonework and artefacts dominated this huge hall. There must have been quite a bit of work in just reproducing all this stuff.

That was followed by corridors full of wrought iron from Germany and England, then a cool little musical instrument exhibition. Dad missed this when he was here last, but he'll definitely have to check it out. Plenty of old harpsichords, clavichords, harps, upright and forté pianos, bass viols - the full bit.

All that was only one floor of the V&A!

On a collision course for the Tower Bridge.
© Jeff Jones


A hall of silverwave. All mine!.
© Jeff Jones

Trajan's column in two bits in the modestly sized scuplture room. Every home needs one.
© Jeff Jones

Superstar DJ

Of course we had to go around the corner to the natural history museum, where the Chemical Brothers clip for Hey boy, hey girl was filmed. There's a skeleton of a Diplodocus in the entry hall, and a fantastic dinosaur exhib, including a moderately lifelike moving Tyrannosaurus Rex. It's an impressive piece of robotics and there are warning signs that it can scare small children. I don't doubt that.

The blue whale and mammal room was also worth a visit, and I learned a bit more about African and Asiatic elephants and gnus. We were somewhat knackered after that.

The evening was spent visiting cousin Polly and her kiddie Eva, who has come a long way since I seen her last in October. I don't know if she liked the fluffy velociraptor that Lucy gave her, but it'll grow on her, I'm sure. She delighted in creating buildings out of blocks and knocking them down again, and putting bread everywhere. She's pretty good at getting to bed though. We had a noice dinner and headed for home, courtesy of London's mini-cab system, which is about triple the price of a Sydney cab.

It was all over too fast. I need another week.

Hey boy, hey girl...it's a Diplodocus in the Natural History museum.
© Jeff Jones

About to be eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
© Jeff Jones

Eva and Polly (both cousins).
© Jeff Jones

Berchem report (I missed it, alas): Eddy cracked and Guido won. Well done!! But neither Eddy nor Guido were there last weekend, so it was just me and Guy Callens at the end. Also, a report from the "Henk Ballet Classic" will follow next week.

More pics

Flat-proud Lucy.
© Jeff Jones

The low-key organ in the chapel opposite the Painted Hall.
© Jeff Jones

A Harrier outside the maritime museum. These were the coolest planes.
© Jeff Jones

Spot the deer in this pic. I think it was eaten by the squirrel.
© Jeff Jones

Pete 'n Lucy in Highgate, in search of a pub.
© Jeff Jones

The Flask in Highgate. Noice.
© Jeff Jones

Where Essie had her wedding reception. Also noice.
© Jeff Jones

If you go through here, you get to Buck Hice(tm).
© Jeff Jones

The dirty but ornate exterior of the V & A.
© Jeff Jones

A spinet.
© Jeff Jones

Me and a Triceratops that I slew with my bare hands.
© Jeff Jones

Lucy teaches Eva about modern architecture and engineering.
© Jeff Jones

Preparing for a rather fine repast.
© Jeff Jones

uitstekende weer

London for a few days next week. Woo hoo!

The weather has turned awesome, as they say in the vernacular. From 10 degrees and raining on June 1 to about 30 and sunny today. Quelle miracle.

The hard yards have paid off and I think I am non-race fit again. Unfortunately I can't race yet, due to a) a sore wrist that is getting better and b) no licence, but I'll get one for the second half of the year.

Tuesday: had to go out alone, but did the Saturday loop at a moderate pace. There was bugger all wind, and I did the 55 km in 1:32, and the Trap Op in 5'13 - fastest time for me this year, without going above 177bpm, so that was nice.

Wednesday (easy day) I set a new record low heart rate crossing the line in the sprint: 90 bpm. OK, so we weren't sprinting, but rolling along at 30 km/h. I wasn't really using my capacity.

Thursday: best day of the year as far as the weather was concerned. 100 km in 2:43, door to door. The bunch wasn't going particularly fast, so I rolled off in pursuit of four others early on. We had six for the first lap, then three for half of the second lap, then just me and another guy coming back from Eine to Gent. We weren't going that hard, but it was such a nice day that it was good to sit on 38-40, doing 1-2 km turns.

Friday (easy day) was similar to Wednesday. I caught up with Matt Gilmore, and he regaled me with a few amusing anecdotes from his days at the AIS (before he cracked and turned Belgian). He was part of the track program, training for the 4000m team pursuit. At the pre-season training camp in Mexico, they were doing 320 km training rides! They were staying at the same hotel as the PDM pro team, and every day the Aussies would pass Alcala and co. out on the road. The PDM guys couldn't believe how many kilometres the Aussies were doing. "What the hell are you training for??" "A 4000 metre team pursuit..." Anyway, these days, things are done a bit differently.

Saturday, which brings us up to the present. Rode fairly hard, but not flat out in the hills, and we had a little bit of a headwind, so the Trap Op was only 5'23. We ended up with a biggish group, with four pros today: Matt Gilmore, Kurt Hovelynck (Jacques), Wouter Weylandt (Quick.Step), and James Vanlandschoot (Landbouwkrediet). Also Matt Smith, Gab Reid, Karl Becker, Guido and a few others. Actually, by the time people had taken various shortcuts, it was basically all together along the Schelde.

At about 10 km to go, it became a full-on attack fest, and it was great fun! A couple of guys would go, then we'd chase, counter, chase again. So the group got smaller, and I tried to make sure I went with everything. At about 3 km to go, Matt G. came by and I got on his wheel, forcing Weylandt to bring the rest up. Then Hovelynck went and I thought perhaps that would be it, but Vanlandschoot chased with Matt Smith and I, so we got him. At about 1 km to go it was just the two Matts, Hovelynck, Weylandt, and we did not stop attacking. Eventually Weylandt got a decent gap and handily won the sprint, while Matt Smith came around me for second. It was as much fun as you can have without throwing up.

No Berchem tomorrow, because our UK guy (or one of them) Ben Atkins is dropping by for a chat. Look out for Eddy!

And finally, for the Quantum mechanicists out there, and I know there are a lot of youse: Schroedinger's cat is NOT dead.

Payback

Wow, we're (as in the Jones family) famous, with an article in the SMH and all. Ma and Pa can become Inner Western Suburbs socialites of note. Clearly, the only way is up.

In other news of import, I had the front room of the flat repainted in blue and blue, courtesy of Les' anagram friend Els. Cool, eh?

Wot a contrast!
© Jeff Jones

Riding wise, it finally stopped raining late last week, although not before I had seriously disturbed all of my elderly (70-75 yrs) neighbours with noise from my brand new mag trainer. OK, so I had it on the floor directly above the living room of Gaston down below, and the reverberation prevented him and Paula from being able to hear Kim Clijsters destroy the opposition in Roland Garros. I also had the window open, so various other neighbours wondered what the hell was going on too. So at Gaston's request (and he is a genial chap), I moved into the spare bedroom. I will invest in some soundproofing foam, methinks...

The weekend was almost the same as the previous in terms of kilometres, but I was slightly fitter. Saturday we averaged 39, and I managed to get the right wheel in what was a very drawn out sprint. People have a tendency to go a bit early.

Sunday was hard as usual, and again 36 km/h. Guido had a prior engagement, but Snelle Eddy was in a feisty mood and attacked several times in the first 10 km, eventually getting a bit of a gap. I thought we should let him go for a bit, because he seems to be happier when he's off the front. To my surprise, Jantje jumped across to him when the gap was still 10 seconds, but that was OK because he normally doesn't do too many turns. But then, the odds tipped in favour of the break when Piet Stevens suddenly joined them (he didn't start with us) before Mont St Aubert.

They were going away now, as no-one really wanted to chase hard before the mighty Mont. It was a good half a minute and reaching painful chasing stage, so I went harder on the false flat up to the climb and got Guy Callens with me. Thanks to AeroDescending(tm), we got them just before they hit the main road towards Tournai. We picked up Hubert, who normally shortcuts the Mont, and then we were six. Jantje stopped working after that.

We did work together for a while, but Eddy was still feisty and attacked after 40 km. I was quite happy to let him go for longer, but we ended up getting him just before Franses-lez-Anvaing. My legs were a bit cooked from the tempo when we hit Lahamaide, but I made sure I did the full climb in front this week :-) No bludging! At the top, only Eddy and Guy were left.

Guy contributed more this time, but Eddy was still clearly the strongest. He has great endurance, as well as a 15 year plus age advantage on me ;-) But I didn't quite have to go as deep on the Chapel and Quatre Vents to hold on, and still had enough to keep rolling through up to the finish. On the Hotonde, Eddy attacked as expected, but although I had to let him go a bit, the gap wasn't too big at the top and Guy and I closed it. 53x19 this week instead of the 23. Still, I found it hard to stay on Eddy's wheel when he sprinted. No contest there. The endurance definitely needs work.

On the way home, I made my habitual stop at the Oudenaarde Coke machine. I poured all my spare change into the coin slot, and it was 1.20. Unfortunately, 500mL of coke was 1.30. Dang. I had a 20 euro note and luckily there was a change machine, so I got 20 x 1 euro coins as well as the all important Coke.

Not sure if I'll make it out to Berchem next week. We'll see.

The hard yards

Congrats to cousin Sophie, Nik and Nina for enlarging their family by the Power of Harry!

Les and I have discovered that we can ride our bikes around the dining table in the living room and through the kitchen (which has two doors) without putting foot to the ground. It's a bit tight, especially on my bike, but it can be done and it relieves the boredom. Not that we've been really bored for the last three weeks. He's going back to Oz on Wednesday, so I'll have to do it on my own.

I've decided to get back into some more serious training, as my wrist has improved quite a lot in the last week. I think I did the same number of kilometres on the weekend as I did during the entire week before last, with the expected result (hit the wall on Sunday). Saturday was with the bunch (see previous bilge post), then for some reason on Sunday, I decided to do the Berchem ride. Never mind that it was one of the busiest weekends of the year with over 40 UCI races on, and I'd gone to sleep at 1:00am the previous night. But I woke up bright and early at 6:00am Sunday, which may or may not have had something to do with Les plus one returning home at around that time.

Anyway, I haven't done 170km for a while, and I knew it would hurt after a hard ride on Saturday. And 'Snelle Eddy' is fit at the moment. We had about eight of us left after Tournai, then Piet Stevens took a shortcut before Lahamaide and proceeded to set a hard tempo up that climb. At the top, he dropped off and there were only four of us: moi, Snelle Eddy, Versmessen, and Guy Callens. The usual suspects, except for Guido, who didn't make it over Lahamaide.

After that, it was mostly Eddy and I swapping off, and I hoped that he wouldn't drill us too hard on the finishing climbs, which were at least into a headwind. No such luck, and that was probably a good thing as far as my training is concerned. Firstly past the Chapel, he dug in and we had to bite the handlebars to hang on. Then the same on the next one just after, up to Quatre Vents. I pretty much had nothing left after that.

The other two were wise to sit on, except Guy Callens couldn't figure out how to get his chain back on at the top of the false flat before the Hotonde (we said just shift into the small ring). We waited, but he ended up stopping, so we continued. Then I ended up having chain/gear issues on the Hotonde, as I was trying to find a gear to follow Eddy in. After several attempts to get it into the 53x21 (it only wanted the 23 or 19), my legs suddenly and completely gave up, and Versmessen and Geert d'Hondt (who'd taken a shortcut) blithely sprinted around me and back onto Eddy's wheel. Don't ask me who won the sprint.

Well, I nearly made it, and the slow ride home only required one coke at Oudenaarde, so that was OK. We did the 80 km in 2:13, which is quick enough for that course, and I finished up with 170km and 4000 calories burned. Given there's between 100 and 200 calories in a beer, that's a good day's work.

Here's a thought for a Challenge: Try and replace all your calories burned by drinking beer, and see how far you get before passing out.

Are we there yet?

I want an ice cream. Much has happened in the last week and a bit, but I won't bore anyone with the details. Well, maybe a few.

0) Work has been busy. Happy when the Giro is over. Did you know there are over 40 UCI races on this weekend?

I) It has been raining every day.

II) The cast is well and truly off, but I need to go back to ye olde hospital in Gent for a checkup next week. My wrist is still pretty sore, and definitely not up to full capacity. I can ride (carefully), but I'll get some physio on it before thinking about racing again.

III) Les and I have kept a small semblance of sanity and been eating remarkably well. But he goes next week so I'll be on my own again.

IV) Outings have been kept to a minimum, but we did go back to Charlatan last Saturday after finishing work around midnight. Didn't get until 4am, then I did 80km on Sunday morning. Somewhat tired later on.

V) Today I went out with the bunch for the first time for six weeks in the hills, while it was dry. We didn't go too hard at the start, but then wound it up a bit on the Trap Op: 5'20 with a headwind, not so bad. I took it fairly steadily on the descent of the Edelareberg...

On the Schelde, it broke up properly as there was a light crosswind. I was down in last wheel when the first couple of groups went, but eventually got across with a couple of others. We whittled it down to een mooie kopgroep van acht: Ikke, Guido, Iljo Keisse, Krijn, Patrick Middernacht, Luc de Loor, Eric Van De Wiele, and one other (a teammate of Luc's). 44.3 km/h back along the Schelde with a cross/tailwind and I was hurting a bit, but it was good training. I think Krijn got the sprint from Iljo but from my vantage point about 10m behind, I couldn't really tell. They should install a photo finish camera at the cafe there.

Een concurrent minder

Finally, I was quite shocked and saddened to learn of the death of Italian journo Valerio Riparbelli last week. Apparently he was riding with a group and was hit by a car - don't have any more details than that. I didn't know him that well, but he was a nice guy, and he was also second and third in the journo world's in 2004 and 2005: He beat me for second in '04, and I beat him in '05. He was looking forward to racing me in Austria this year, and when I said I wasn't sure if I could go because of work, he said, "Sometimes, cycling is more important."

Heel spijtig.

Vlaamse Stoverij

Les and I have been having cooking wars, but he wins most of the time because I'm happy to have someone else cook for me. However, I got my own back with my patented Vlaamse Stoverij^TM. It's based on a time honoured recipe handed down by the monks, and I cooked it for the first time on Saturday. It goes something like this:

Reagents

Meat from a hoofed animal, preferably one that's dead
Rodenbach beer
Onions
Sugar
Vinegar
Herbs (pretty much any herbs will do)
Bread
Dijon mustard
Stock cube and pepper
Oil (not Valvoline, but almost an anagram of this)

Method

Fry the onions in the Valvoline, then realise you should have fried the meat first. Add the meat while no-one is looking and fry it as well. Forget about removing the onions. It's far too late for that. You're basically doomed from this point onwards, but you may as well continue because you will starve otherwise.

Add a couple of bottles of Rodenbach, keeping one spare for private consumption. This is one of the Key Ingredients^TM. Add the salt, pepper, stock cube, herbs (I think I found some tarragon in the cupboard), vinegar and brown sugar. Do not add too much sugar otherwise you end up with quite a sweet stew which you still have to eat or you'll starve.

Don't even bother waiting until the onions have caramelised. Instead, add the bread which has been smeared with Dijon mustard, because this is basically the last thing you have to do, then you can go and do something far more useful, like work.

Turn down the heat, put the lid on, and let it do its own thing for two hours. You can stir it, but it probably won't improve the flavour. At the end, realise you haven't stirred it enough because the three slices of bread are still sitting on top of the stew. Stir like crazy until they disintegrate, then it's ready.

Results, discussion and conclusion

Consume with bread (OK, frites if you're really hard core) and more beer, which you will need to stomach the stew. Nevertheless, it was surprisingly good.

Appendix

Proficiat Tomas Vaitkus for winning stage nine of the Giro! I knew all that flat training would pay off.

Microgolf

Is what you play in a Flann O'Brien novel. It's also Dutch for the device you use to heat up all manner of foodstuffs, or blow up cockroaches if you are that way inclined, and I'm not.

The cast is giving me the pip. Away with it, I say. One more week, and hopefully that's it. Typing with it is damned annoying. Pumping up tyres is not advised.

Lucy Power sent me this link to Jan Ullrich's MySpace page. Tres hilarious. Turn up the sound!

Absolution: the West Vleteren experience

It has come to pass. Months in the planning, and all down to the last detail: my quest to taste West Vleteren beer is over. But I am sure it will not be the last time I imbibe of this holy drink, which is rated by many as the best beer in the world.

As mentioned in the previous update, I have been in heavy training for this occasion. Some moderate drinking in the early part of the week, then four or five Leffe Tripels (8.5%) on Thursday, followed by an easier day of pils consumption on Friday. That was just to ease the load on the body while keeping the levels of alcohol dehydrogenase up high. But as I found, West Vleteren 12° (10.2% alcohol) is more than just a strong drink.

We had synchronised our watches so that Philippe and Guido would pick me up in Gent at 8:15 on Saturday evening. From there it was a 15 minute drive to our secret rendezvous just outside the city, a certain café in Philippe and Jo's neighbourhood run by the impressive Mia. Nothing was left to chance, although when we arrived, we were somewhat dismayed by the number of cars parked outside. Surely they weren't all coming to drink West Vleteren?? Fortunately, it turned out to be a school play or something, and we were not disturbed until later in the evening, when a mini-horde of children came into the bar and started reading books. [Note for the Belgians: this is not common in Australia].

The café was in a very pleasant rural setting and you could appreciate the history around it. From the old wooden bar and tables to the paintings and, err, trumpets, on the walls, the ancient beer bottles in crates on the floor, the local patrons and of course Mia herself... It was another slice of Belgian culture that I could taste.

Guido and Philippe outside Mia's café
© Jeff Jones


The wall decorations were a little surreal
© Jeff Jones

Mia was kept busy this evening. Cool bar too.
© Jeff Jones

Guido and Philippe get stuck into the serious part of the evening
© Jeff Jones

Enjoying West Vleteren 12°
© Probably not Jeff Jones

While we waited for Jo and Jan (of Ronde van Vlaanderen for wielertoeristen fame), Guido, Philippe and I decided to start with the serious business of the evening. West Vleteren wasn't even on the menu; you had to know that it was served here. The monks who brew it generally forbid it to be sold outside their abbey, and if you want to buy some there, you have to queue up for hours at certain times of the day. And even then, you are only limited to two or three crates! This stuff is hard to come by.

There are three types, all of which come in plain brown bottles with only the caps to distinguish them. The strongest is the full flavoured dark one - the Abbott - which is 12°/10.2%; then there is another dark one (Extra) with a sharper taste at 8°8%; and finally there is the blond (Special), which is 'only' 5.8% and has a different taste again. We had already decided to start with the heaviest first while our palates were still functional, then work our way down.

Mia poured us out three Abbott beers with a religious solemnity, holding the bottle above the glass and moving it anticlockwise, like a priest, until the glass was full and had a small layer of foam. We clinked glasses and I drank a mouthful, slowly. This sort of beer is like a good wine in that you should hold it in your mouth to taste it before swallowing. And although I'm by no means a connoisseur, I could tell that it was different.

The flavour seemed to come in two parts: first of all, sweet as it hits the front of your tongue, then slightly sour when you swallow it. Fruity? Yes, but also very heavy as it fills your head very quickly. It wasn't just the alcohol that did that, but also the full flavour. And it stays with you, no matter how slowly you drink it. It's pretty amazing stuff, and puts other beers in their place.

Jo and Jan contemplate the West Vleteren 12°
© Jeff Jones

We hadn't gotten too far into our glasses when Jo and Jan turned up, and proceeded to play a slow catch up. The café began to get more crowded as folks appeared, including the kiddies mentioned earlier. So we moved onto the next beer, which was the Extra, although by this stage the first beer was working rather well. The Extra had a much lighter, sharper flavour, but it was still a most delicious drop. I was thankful that it was only 8%, and that I had done the necessary training, because it was still hard going.

Our party doubled in size when The Wives appeared, and things became more merrie. We had moved onto the blonds (Extras) by this stage, and these took some getting used to after the donkere bieren. They were still very good, but I'd recommend drinking them separately to the dark beers.

As the evening wore on, we moved onto the blonds...
© Jeff Jones

Guido and Philippe in the non-serious part of the evening
© Jeff Jones

There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya about the raising of the wrist
© Jeff Jones

Serious drinkers: Jo, Guido, Philippe and Ik
© Jan de Roubaix

Three West Vleterens in one night was more than enough for me, and was happy to call a halt at midnight. Philippe only had one beer, so I got a lift home with him, with Guido and his wife heading back to Oudenaarde. Jo and Jan were still going by the time we left, and I hope they didn't end up like one of the patrons, who simply fell asleep on his stool.

Thank you Pater Guido and Brothers Philippe, Jo and Jan, for a full bodied, but not out of body, West Vleteren experience. Now for the Oudenaardse Einse Cnudde...

Close of play
© Jo Vandenheulen