Bike Ride from Liège to Huy
(continuation)

And Mur de Huy was my objective for visiting this town. Slightly under a mile long, this legendary climb maxes out at 25%, with significant stretches of 14% and 19% thrown in for good measure. The climb itself is on a narrow residential road that’s only open to local traffic. The base is a spur off of the N66 about 100 meters following a left turn from the city center (after crossing a bridge).

As I was waiting for the traffic light to change at the aforementioned left turn, I noticed, racked in a car in front of me, an impeccable carbon-fiber Colnago C40 painted in handsome Rabobank colors, di prima classe Record components throughout, and with a pair of expensive-looking Campagnolo aero rims. The driver (presumably the bike owner), stylin’ in his Briko wrap-around shades, was eyeing me and my bike (somewhat condescendingly) from his rear-view mirror. I felt, well…inadequate. The light turned green and he took off while I, barely suppressing a sigh, proceeded to the base of Mur de Huy.

There was this intimidating "19%" sign at the base of the climb. Looking up at its initial stretch, a 350-meter straightaway, I saw a single lane that rose abruptly between rows of residential houses but then disappeared after bending to the right. I didn’t know what to expect beyond what I could see. Sometimes I wonder whether familiarity is a friend or a foe when climbing steep hills. I started to get psyched and intimidated. Before fear and over-analysis completely overtook me, I shifted to my 39x19 and started climbing.

(Above: The stretch before the steepest section)

The initial straight stretch wasn’t quite bad, and 39x19 was very comfortable. I relaxed and tried to think of other difficult climbs I had overcome in the past. Of course, the fact that my legs were well rested from the long descent into Huy helped considerably. Just as I predicted, the road did steepen at the right bend, perhaps to as much as 15% or 16%. After 50 meters or so, the road turned left, all the while maintaining its sharp character. At the top of this stretch, I could see another bending to the left, and I knew, instinctively, that therein laid the steepest segment of Mur de Huy. This was confirmed by the series of "Huy"s painted on the surface. It must be quite a sight to see the Armstrongs, the Bartolis and the Jalaberts of the pro ranks storming up the Mur de Huy in pursuit of one of cycling’s most prestigious victories. I could almost hear the tifosi crowding the sidewalks, shouting words of encouragement to their favored rider. But Mur de Huy was quiet today save for my audible gasps as I tried to take in as much oxygen as I can.

(Above and Below: The 25% section of Mur de Huy)

I’ve read somewhere that this particular turn has a knee-popping gradient of 25%. That’s a 12% and a 13% climb stacked together. Basically, one missed pedal turn and you fall off your bike. It’s the kind of road where, because of the steepness, one can actually feel the tilting of the bike. From previous experience, I know that I could only feel this when the gradient exceeded 13-14%. Needless to say, this road was much more than that. I shifted to my largest gear, 39x23 and hoped that it would be sufficient. In any case, having played my trump card, there’s nothing I could do but to grunt out the rest of the climb. Intriguingly, I was energized by the "Huy"s on the road.

(Above: The section after the steepest turn)

But the steepest section was short, no more than 40-50 meters I would say. The road took a final curve to the right and thereafter eased (if, indeed, 14% can be considered "easing"). After another 150 meters, the top of the road appeared and just beyond the top, and with great symbolic import, a church.

(Below: The top of Mur de Huy)

I paused for a couple of minutes at the top to catch my breath, then headed back down to take pictures. On the way down, I met a group of five uniformly dressed cyclists as they tackled the steepest sections of Mur de Huy. I daresay they weren’t too amused by the sight of me standing at the roadside curb watching them sweat it out. A support car (sag wagon?) was breathing down their collective necks, megaphone on its roof blaring, inexplicably, a Barry White tune. How the Walrus of Love could be expected to help one tackle a 25% road was lost on me. Must be a European thing.

(Above and Below: Cyclists tackling Mur de Huy)

And behind the support car I espied what appeared to be a Colnago C40 in Rabobank colors, with aero wheels and top-of-the-line components. It was being pushed up the hill by a very winded, but stylishly garbed, person. I know, I know, it’s mean to do so, but I couldn’t suppress a sneer. The phrase "yuppie toy" came to mind. Well anyway, whoever rides an expensive bike like that ought to be able to prove that he or she is worthy of it—or invite ridicule.