08/21/2008

Cold, Muddy, and Sometimes Fun A west coast native finds some mtb harmony in the Belgian winter Words and photos ~ David Alvarez

The average North American rider seldom mentions "Belgium" and "mountain bike" in the same conversation. But this little chocolate-and-beer-loving country, tucked into the damp northwestern corner of Europe, has a fairly decent mtb legacy that is not just restricted to Filip Meirhaeghe: Houffalize is regarded as the queen of the UCI World Cup schedule, and has some pretty wicked trails; Spa-Francorchamps has hosted several UCI events; several motocross and BMX world champions have come from Belgium...there is plenty of cred to go around.

At the same time old habits die hard here. You'll be pleased to know that the flat bar and bar ends are alive and well in Belgium. In fact going on a ride here is sometimes like going back in a time machine; lots of bright lycra, 80mm forks, V-brakes (the big upgrade from V-brakes being hydraulic rim brakes). Keep in mind that most of this country is as flat as a new rotor. For someone like me who spent most of my life riding in the Vancouver-Seattle corridor, it’s painfully flat.

Got your booties on?

So the 5-inch “XC” bike from home sits in the garage while I test out a lightweight hardtail. I had to scrap the flat bar and the 120mm stem that came on it - needless to say the transition has been tough at times. For starters, winter is mountain bike season here in Belgium. Don’t ask me why - the trails are muddy beyond belief and there’s not a touch of dry dirt in sight until June. Yet every single Saturday and Sunday all over the country thousands of mountain bikers head out on organized rides called “Tour Tochts.”

The Tour Tocht is great and terrible at the same time. Pre-set courses usually come in three lengths ranging from 20 -70km, all marked for you to meander at your own pace. Your 1-3 euro entry fee gets you a pre-set course and snacks at the halfway point. Like a youth soccer game there are orange slices, bananas, and if you're lucky,some sports drink waiting for you.

"Winter sun in Belgium and Netherlands usually means one thing..."

On a recent Sunday some Belgians and I did a tocht of 50km in the soft rolling hills that signal our proximity to Germany. It was muddy – we were surfing at times – but for the first time in literally several weeks the clouds broke and it was a crystal clear day. I was overjoyed until I found out that winter sun in Belgium and Netherlands usually means one thing – wind.

With a lack of large trail networks these loops are connected with the occasional farming road, which exposes you to gale force winds. But getting back into comforting embrace of the forest leads back to the reason we’re out here: trails. Grinding up short hills, pedaling into the descent, feeling the tires massage the dirt, scanning the route for good technical lines. Before you know it you’re enjoying yourself.

The trails aren't TOO technical...

There probably aren't many places outside of Europe where people claim they enjoy climbing more than descending, where perfection is a sub-10kg bike, but hey - we're mountain biking, Flemish style. And as the months go by I notice that I’m getting kind of fit and next thing I know I’m actually chasing these crazy Belgians up the hills.

The finish of the tocht is followed by good Belgian beer, where we argue over the virtues of riser bars and disc brakes. They laugh at me for being slow up the hill and I laugh at them for dismounting and walking over all the fallen logs. Our riding styles are evolving, albeit in different ways, but that is what is so nice about this sport.

Mud was invented in Belgium.

Luckily for me Belgium is a small country – the French alps are a four-hour drive, Les Gets is five hours away – more or less the same as driving Seattle to Whister. For the dedicated rider that could mean a season pass at Portes du Soleil. Neighbouring Switzerland is also a beehive of big mountain valleys with seemingly countless gondolas that guarantee you days of rides with the bike pointed down. And for the European flat-bar, lycra-clad XC warrior, they have hills, too.

Five of these and you're feeling better about the day

On a recent trip to BC I splurged on a Knolly Delirium-T. I’m pretty sure “built for the Shore” is going to translate pretty well to “kicking ass in Verbier.” The frame screams solid and begs to be taken outdoors. If my ride on a V-Tach is any indication, I’ll have a hard time thinking of reasons to drive back to Belgium. But that’s months from now so for now Knolly sits in the bike room, slowly collecting choice parts. It’ll be nice to be riding 2.5 tires again.

The next week we go for an informal local ride – meet at the cathedral at 9. I notice already that one guy has changed to discs and another has a hydration pack. I take this as a small victory until I look down and remember that I too have put on an old pair of lycra shorts this morning.

Bob's Bike

I live where the terrain goes from really flat to slightly less flat – 50 kilometers more south towards the Ardennes and there are real hills. But we have some small ups and downs on my loop, and an old gravel pit that has a couple of little tiny drops. At this point I’ve given up explaining why we don’t need racing bikes since we’re not racing anybody. As we head towards the trails I catch out of the corner of my eye Bob, our large IT manager who rides a cyclocross bike with fenders and a flat bar, doing tiny jumps over the speed bump in the road.

After 2 hours of more or less non-stop riding we re-group for a break. I pull out the hip flask and everybody takes a drink of tequila that has been in there since Downieville. We re-mount and do one last loop, this time finishing with a lengthy descent that starts with a forced drop – everybody somehow makes their way down, but up ahead someone has a flat. I pull the flask back out as we sit down under a tree for a good 10 minutes of tire repair.

David Alvarez

Belgium you say?  What do you think?