Another bit of Palmares in the bank! LBL 2004 was by no means up for
grabs: shite weather (rain all day long; a bit more wind than was
needed; dark grey skies; the barometer not exceeding 15 Celsius
(Chrono's altimeter went bazerk from all the variations in air
pressure)), heavy terrain (pas de plat) and one of our key riders
missing. Nevertheless, the Waakzame Vingers have survived the
onslaught, and once more indulged in some solid 'Joy through Suffering'.

Oppositional turn-out was by far less massive than was the case in 2003 (or will be
in 2005). Most participants (the overwhelming majority of which are
polderers like us) apparently decide just before the event whether to
go or to opt out. The optimists who thought that a forecast of
'potential rain' means 'probably dry' were in for a brutal reality
check. In fact, I heard a lot of meteorology-related complaints in the
peloton. But no whining within our Squadra! Most of us have done a fair
amount (our UK-representatie probably most) of their early season
training work in these conditions (usually without encountering a
single Oppositionist on the roads). So the Vingers were automatically
shortlisted for Success. As Boiaⁱ SMS-ed early in the morning: 'Rain
kills the Opposition' (only would he likely have written everyting in
capitals, which he always does). In all honesty, though, I spotted
quite some cyclists wearing far less layers of clothing than my three
(sweat shirt/short sleeve/long sleeve jersey; I ditched the rain jacket
out of solidarity with my teammates and--more importantly--to avoid
overheating). Dutch Flandriens do exist! And they do finish, as we
would see later, much later, that day.

The ride itself went okay, with varying levels of dominance/confidence/satisfaction. The
Vingers sticked to their tested method of riding in a 'closed
formation' for the bulk of the ride. Yet, given the rugged terrain and
that not all of our eight legs felt like producing the same wattage, it
was not easy to keep the groupetto together. Since none of us is Joe
Average, none of us probably rode his own tempo/maintained his own
rhythm: it was either too conservative or too fast; never spot on. At
the control on top of the Baraque de Fraiture (yes, that's were you're
getting your 'friture' on your way to/from the South), I checked our
AVSⁱ so far: we were not particularly fast, so the Full Montyⁱ was likely
to involve some serious saddle time. Thus I carefully pointed out that
on the Baraque, as Chrono and I are so painfully aware of, you have the
option of cutting the route short to 170km. Chrono was the first to
raise his voice in protest: 'No way. Full Monty!' He spoke on behalf of
all of us. Determination all over the place!

Next was what is supposed the easiest section of LBL: the road(s) to Bastogne and from
there back up towards the 'Bermuda Triangle', as Chrono calls the area
where the Ardennes classics are usually decided. Well, the uphill
gradients are not overly serious (they do not go into the double-digit
percentages), but I wouldn't call this section flat. 'Undulating', in
my polder book, means 'not flat', and therefore commands respect.
Period. Anyhow, Chrono, Reno and I kept at eye-distance. Fonz at some
point checked out to ride his own race, to find out that both the
endurance and the sharpness where there.

Meanwhile, my heart rate monitor went completely dead. A pain in the rear, for I routinely
consult it to gauge my effort. I know that this can be done 'on
feeling' as well, but on this particular day I never really was 'in
touch' with my engine. None of the early climbs hurt me, but, then,
they never do.

When we met again on the pittoresque summit of
the Wanne, we reconfirmed our tactical arrangement implying that the
Finale would be a free for all enterprise. For Chrono, unfortunately,
that meant abandoning the official trajectory and taking the quickest
route back to Liège. The infamous cramps had taken possession of his
legs, no need to unnecessarily prove/torture himself. A pity, because
he was riding so well.

Reno figured that he had not come all the
way from across the Channel to leave it at that, so in his typical
polite fashion asked permission to complete LBL at his own pace. Once
assured that we wouldn't mind waiting a bit at the Finish (or even to
pick him up by car if need be), he confidently set out for what he
knows so well: riding solo. Fortunately, there were some groups to
join, so he got worth for his (considerable!) entrance fee.

Fonz and I set out to do the same. But the Finale, for me, did not develop
as planned. I had been determined to give everything (reminiscent of
Boia's standing orders and of my past record of not handling
the--psychological pressure of the--final km's too well), but it turned
out that I didn't have much to offer. The signs were there already on
the climb to Wanne, where I struggled against myself and the Triple
Mafia. The remaining hills would become an even more demanding
challenge, given the Form of the day. No crisis, but no speed either.
Le Rosier and La Vecquee again were not made for me. The only Morale
boost I got from the descents: godspeed and no fear.

Fonz, on the other hand, did full justice to his climber's build. While
conceding time on the downhills (where there isn't that much to be
gained anyhow), he took the ascents with impressive ease, overtaking
many Oppositionists and yours truly in the process. Fonz was, in one
word, ruling. I was on damage limitation. Okay, I didn't have to lie
down after each climb, as those who passed me had to, but it was
painfully clear that all the 'slaughter' had to be done by just one
Vinger.

Most humiliating, perhaps, was yet another Unforced
Error by the author on La Redoute. I thought that those were a thing of
the past (I have pocketed this bugger at least four times), but the wet
surface decided otherwise. I will forever hate this guy 'Phil', whose
name was painted all over the road, which made my back wheel slip
beyond repair. Out of the pedals. Walk. The horror. If you're not
strong, I guess, you pay all the bills.

Once you have 'taken' La
Redoute, the ride is done. The remaining 20km to Liége are for free:
descents only. Fonz and I conveniently settled in a good groupetto and
hammered towards the Finish. There we were reunited with Chrono, and
little later also with Reno. I must admit that I liked hearing the
Applause when we finished.

From the correspondence in the
lead-up to LBL it became already apparent that some Vingers were
particularly obsessed with the Art of Properly Stuffing (and Hydrating)
Yourself. So Friday evening we took great care in selecting a
restaurant. Thanks to Chrono's and Fonz's French language skills we
eventually could settle for a venue that had some Pasta (still carb
supplier No.1) on the menu. We ordered two portions each, but were
warned by the waiter that that was more than we could handle. Little
did he know. And small were his plates (Chrono's ration was gone within
two minutes). So we had to file another order, explaining that we were
cyclists with a heavy job ahead of us, which provoked no reaction
whatsoever from the waiter. One of the highlights of the dinner was
when Chrono went public with his latest invention: predigested food. He
was referring to the 'Boules de Liège' that Fonz had the courage to
order, but we all realised the enormous potential of 'eating without
having to work'. Soon in a shop near you.

The meticulous preparations in the week(s) preceding the event paid off. All four (!)
Vingers were in decent Shape. Flawless (well, almost)
logistics--thanks, again, Fonz, for getting us to the Ardennes and
back--and no punctures; no (significant) mechanical hick-ups.
Litespeed/Ultegra were at their all-time cleanest (even the washing
machine had been employed to rejuvenate the chain), if only for half a
minute (everything was dirty even before we reached the Départ; yet
everything kept on functioning perfectly).

One of the quotes of
the day (I am sure that there is more to follow in other reports) was
authored by Reno, about one hour before the start: 'Good that I brought
my favourite underpants.' He slided into them and subsequently put on
his bibshort. If the Style Police (or even worse: the Underwear Nazi)
ever finds out... Anyhow, the Style Police had a busy day: time trial
bars, US Postal bibshorts with a Heineken jersey, and woozy on-road
phone calls to the team car ('Bring me a dry jersey, a clean pair of
socks and some deodorant.').

Regardless of the hardships of
having to fight the elements and gravity, I think that we all had a
very good time. This was a true Waakzame Classic. Helmets off to Reno
(maillot blanc), Chrono (maillot vert) and especially Fonz, our
undisputed King of the Mountains. I am proud of us. We have written
another page of Waakzame History...

Hope to see you all soon on
a domestic polder ride and, of course, the next Palmares Ride! Keep up
the Motivation and the Appetite for Self-Destruction!

THE ROSTER:
Chrono
Fonz
Reno
Bruco

THE ROUTE (saving this for future reference):
Liège - COTE
D'EMBOURG - Sprimont - Aywaille - COTE DE KIN - Kin - Stoque - Lorcé - Chession - Neuville - Lierneux - Regne - BARAQUE DE FRAITURE - Wibrin - Mormont - Compogne - Longchamps - Champs - Hemroulle - Bastogne - Foy - Bourcy - Boeur - Tavigny - Cetturu - Brisy - Cherain - Langlire - Ottré - Joubieval - Sart - Vielsalm - Grand
Halleux - WANNE - Stavelot - COTE D'AMERMONT - COTE DE LA HAUTE
LEVÉE - Andrimont - LE ROSIER - La Gleize - LA VECQUEE - La Reid - Remouchamps - COTE
DE LA REDOUTE - Sprimont - Sendrogne - Stinval - Liège.

THE DATA (no HR-bogus thanks to the crashed PC1600):
DST: 238,21km
TIME: 09:59:36
AVS: 24,10km/h
MAX: 64,9km/h