Ronde van Vlaanderen (Tour of Flanders)

Yesterday, I spent the day following the Tour of Flanders/Ronde van Vlaanderen with my Dad. I woke up at six in the morning to meet him downstairs and drive north to Brugge. Our goal was to beat the crowds and arrive to the Grote Markt (Market Square) to find a good spot to observe the ceremonies. We parked next to the canal on the outskirts of Brugge and walked to the square. The streets were empty except for the street cleaning crews prepping the roads for the day’s event. A man with a street blower was followed by two street sweeper trucks. The truck’s circular brushes worked their way along the curbs. We walked further and steadily approached the center noticing railing that had been placed along the edge of the cobbled streets. Also small tents and stands were set up with cycling memorabilia. They were selling cycling cards, hats, gloves, jerseys, and pictures. We were getting close! When we arrived to the center, small groups of people were huddled in different sections of the square. Some gathered close to the stage, which was located at the base of the Belfry, others were lined along the railing in the middle, and more were sitting in café’s bordering the square.

We placed ourselves toward the center of the square and close to the stage in order to see the riders close up exiting the platform. After standing for about half an hour a small band came on stage. They performed their mic check and the three men began playing. The singer, who also was playing the accordion, had a hint of Johnny Cash sound when he sang. The bass player and drummer would play along as the singer belted out English songs, tapped his foot, and worked his accordion. It was about 8 o’clock when two commentators came on stage and began introducing people. I have no clue what they were talking about as they were rallying the crowd. They brought important people on stage such as a boxer, a cycling club, about 15 girls with their sashes who were the Belgium sport girls, and others. As time went on, the square began to fill with people milling around deciding where they would find the best views. Eventually, it would be packed with people crowded shoulder to shoulder. There were also people in the balconies of the Provinciaal Hof (Provincial Court). Soon, riders began to make their way to the stage to sign in. I didn’t recognize a lot of them to begin with but soon the big named riders would approach and ride onto the stage. As they signed in they were interviewed by the commentators then would make their way down the exiting ramp. After cycling off the astroturf ramp, they were immediately swarmed by press and news crews. They would stand and talk for a few minutes then ride off down the fenced off pathways. Fans and spectators would shout out to the riders begging for autographs or pictures with the celebrities. Some would be lucky to get their attention.

After all the riders signed in, they grouped together in the northeast corner of the square to begin the biggest race in Belgium. The commentators began a countdown and the fans mimicked. The start gun was shot and a silence rolled over the crowd. Nobody cheered or yelled frantically as the caravan drove off and the riders followed. There was only a slight murmur from the mass of people. After the last car left the market square, people congregated to the streets that led away from the center. My Dad and I followed the stream of people to return to the car. We had plans to meet a lady and her family in Brakal to observe the race as it passed through their town. We eventually found our way back to our Renault and began our hour drive to the small town just south of Gent.

My Dad’s Tom Tom GPS led us to the centrum of Brakel where we met Monique and her husband Mario. We parked our car and hopped in theirs where they would take us back to their home. At their residence we met their son, Jarno, and daughter, Eline, who were both very nice. We sat down with them and began watching the Tour of Flanders on their large screen television. Monique offered us beverages and snacks while we chatted with the family. I just had some water, which was the joke of the day with Eline, while my Dad tried a brew. Soon they served up some lunch, which was totally unexpected. We gathered around the table and had some vegetable soup, more water J, pork, cauliflower, and some potatoes. It was very appetizing and a delightful lunch. After finishing our meals, Monique, Eline, my Dad, and I would drive into town, just a few minutes away, to watch the race as it passed through.

We pulled up to one of the streets and parked the car. We walked to a nearby corner where people were grilling brats and having beers. Not very many people were there when we arrived but that would soon change. Just before the caravan arrived, masses of people came running to the corner to view the race. They seemingly appeared out of nowhere because I had no clue where they were coming from. After only a few minutes the long caravan of lead cars would pass honking their horns and waving out their windows. I was looking for the helicopters as well which is where the lead riders would be located just below. The helicopters eventually spun their rotors overhead and the lead group would cruise around the corner. I was able to pick out Stijn Devolder and George Hincapie immediately. George chucked his bottle just a few meters before passing me. The bottle rolled downhill in my vicinity where I scooped it up for a little souvenir. When the majority of the peloton passed, we hurried back to the car and drove back to the Dumongh home to see the conclusion of the race on the tele. When we got there Mario and Jarno told us they were approaching the Muir climb which is where the action began for Devolder and he would win the race on a solo breakaway. Soon it was about dinner time and my Dad and I had to return to Hertsberge to bring me home. It was a great day in which I was able to see some amazing cyclists, the biggest Tour in Belgium, spend time with my Dad, and meet and converse with a wonderful family.