"La Doyenne"
(continuation)

A couple of miles before Stoumont, I turned off to an even quieter road, the N645. This, too, followed the course of a river, Lienne (a stream, really). It was mid-morning and the temperature had been rising steadily. I was quite tempted to pull off the road, sit under the broad shade of a tree, take off my shoes and just dip my piggies in the inviting stream. But, like Robert Frost, though tempted by a figurative woods that was dark and deep, I had miles (many miles!) to go before I sleep. Miles to go before I sleep…

(Below: A typee? In Belgium?)

I stayed on the N645 for about 23 kilometers, mostly flat, except the last three or four, on the approach to Lierneux, which were noticeably uphill. For no particular reason, I decided to stop in Lierneux and to look around. Besides a pretty church, Lierneux looked like any other mid-sized French rural town. I parked my butt on a sidewalk in front of the neighborhood store and had a quick snack. It was 11:00 in the morning and the temperature was around 25C (mid-70’s F); I raised my head and enjoyed the warmth hitting my face. After a few more minutes, I got back on my bike, feeling guilty for having stopped before the "real ride" had begun.

(Below: The church in Lierneux)

(Below: Top of the climb outside Lierneux towards Baraque de Fraiture)

There was a very steep, though very short, steep climb out of Lierneux, followed by a more moderate, though still strenuous, climb of about 950 feet in 7.5 kilometers to Baraque de Fraiture. I rejoined the N30 south at the next junction. But unlike the N30 stretch near Liège, this one was almost arrow straight, very gradually downhill, and completely free of traffic (the faster E26 motorway being a stone’s throw and parallel to it). This stretch of the N30 is the kind of road where heavier cyclists can easily average over 30 miles/hour for miles. Just outside Houffalize, the downhill got steeper, and the view opened up to reveal a broad valley in the vicinity of Bastogne.

(Below: Along a beautiful downhil stretch of the N30 north of Houffalize)

At this point I veered off the official LBL course and followed the another exceptionally pretty minor road, the N812 east to Montleban. The striking thing about this stretch was the profusion of yellow wildflowers lining the roadside and blanketing the hills. Their vivid hues were obvious indications that they were enjoying the sunny weather. But to me it was getting uncomfortably hot. The temperature was well into the 30’s. I tried to take a swig of water, inadvertently pulled the cap off, and spilled water all over Erasmus and me. Though the coolness was initially shocking, it was also very refreshing, so I poured some more over my head through the helmet vents.

I rejoined the official course on the N878 north of Cherain, a shortcut that saved me almost 50 kilometers of fairly flat roads (with the notable exception of Côte Saint-Roch, a climb 1.5 kilometer climb on the approach to Bastogne). I ran out of water again, so I stopped at a roadside friterie, and quickly disposed of a Coke and iced tea (winces from the English), before resuming my ride.

The next 13 kilometers of the N68 in and around Vielsalm were pretty much flat and uneventful, and I began to wonder what the big deal was with this race. It was also at this point that I picked up the TBT (the amateur LBL) road markings and started following them. Shortly after passing Grand Halleux, the course turned sharply right and I was suddenly faced with a steep climb. I scrambled and managed to shift just in time to prevent stalling.

(Above and Below: Côte de Wanne)

It appeared the climbing had begun.

I’m not certain where each of the hill in the series of climbs officially started and where they ended, but, as I had indicated, the first climb (presumably) Côte de Wanne, kicked things off with a steep climb of >10% for about 120 meters. I had thought that this was the extent of the climb so I rode back down and took pictures. Further up, I realized that the climb continued on, though not as steeply. Côte de Wanne was not exceptionally difficult given that the two segments of the climb were separated by a level section of about 150 meters.

(Above: The Côte de Stockeu, I think. The climb starts out in the road
shown on the picture and then turns right up the tree-covered hill)

I wish I could say the same thing about the next climb that. Côte de Stockeu, a two-kilometer climb averaging 8.9%, started off with a steep, straight uphill, with pitches in the middle perhaps approaching 15%. Worse yet, the first part of the climb was without shade, and on this exceptionally hot day, was very draining. I started the climb with a 39x17 and tried to ride rhythmically and conservatively. In no time I was pushing a 39x21. Sweat from my head dripped down my face and stung my eyes. A shirtless guy stopped mowing his lawn and watched my slow progress up the hill. The next levelling turned out to be a false flat, for the climb continued following a right turn that was not visible from lower down. I got relief from the heat as the road now took shelter under a lush canopy of maple and birch. But the road continued on quite steeply for another 500 meters, before bending to the left and then easing up as it approached the summit.

(Below: The final turn near the top of the Côte de Stockeu climb)

Relieved, I started freewheeling my way down the other side of the hill. I met a group of riders coming up from the other side—nothing unusual except they were all wearing the distinctive Gazzetta del Sporto’s maglia rosa, the pink jersey worn by the leader of the second most prestigious stage race after the Tour de France, the Giro d’Italia. Later that day, I was to find out that Marco Pantani, currently the best climber in the world, had just taken over leadership of the race as the Giro headed up the Gran Sasso d’Italia. A week later, Casey struck out at bat as Marco was disqualified after tests revealed that his hematocrit level exceeded the maximum allowable.

(Above: At the bottom of the descent from Côte de Stockeu near Trois-Ponts)

An exhilarating descent into a densely forested area was followed by a short climb over a minor hill then a more sustained descent. I got carried away by the downhills I stopped paying attention where I was. I emerged near the center of a moderate-sized town with cobbled streets and started looking for the road markings to point the way to the next climb. But the markings had disappeared so I was on my own. The route sheet I downloaded indicated I needed to turn at "Stèle Eddy Mercx," the minuscule sign for which I found after a few minutes of looking....

Last Updated: June 13, 1999