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Gent-Wevelgem

The wind.

By Gruber Images

April 1^st, 2015

A Cold start.

We’ve long known that our Classics seasons have been lucky so far. We started shooting races in earnest back in 2011, and each year, we’ve had pretty solid weather from Dwars door Vlaanderen to Roubaix. Sure, there was that cold year, but it was dry and not too, too terrible. This year, however, has made up for all those sunny races, all those short-sleeved chases, all those rides in spring and summer kit. This spring has been nothing short of classic, and Sunday’s Gent-Wevelgem stands at the pinnacle of everything one thinks of when they say Spring Classic…just with more wind.

Chasing. always chasing.

At this point in the race, Luca Paolini was many, many groups back. The first time we saw him, he was riding in what must have been one of the last groups on the road. He had normal cars behind his group. He was nearly out of the race. Paolini and so many others just kept on chasing though, waiting for that headwind, waiting for a chance to make good on their lost ground.

Early carnage.

Groups were everywhere at this point in the race, and Ashley was in the middle of the road - behind a flag waver and a post. Safety first, right?

Some town.

Ashley was standing in the corner as the dozens of shattered groups poured through the wet streets, chasing the slumped figures of the group in front of them, protected for a brief moment from the raging winds, but still vulnerable to the danger of slick stones…and Matthias Brändle hit hard. He got up and carried on. Didn‘t everyone fall down at least once on Sunday?

We had a flat tire in this town. For the second year in a row, we had a significant car mechanical, and it took some quick thinking to get us going again. Yoeri’s spare was flat, and he didn’t have the necessary tools - which wasn’t a problem. Door knocking ensued and moments later, an air compressor appeared, as did every tool one could ever need. The flat was fixed before the race even arrived. No problem.

The helicopter.

If you’re chasing the race, eyes and ears are always on the alert. Ears are listening for the RO-DAN-EE-AHHHHH (Rodania watches!) of the lead car, and eyes are always scanning the horizon for the helicopters.

belgian bricks.

…or - the best way to watch a bike race on a terrible day: from inside.

The trials of mark cavendish.

I’m pretty sure everyone has their tales of woe from Sunday, but Mark Cavendish seemed to stand out amongst all save those that went to the hospital or ended up swimming in a ditch.

Cassel.

What’s the saying? Out of the frying pan and into the fire? The field left the outrageous crosswinds of the main road heading due south to Cassel, only to be confronted with a long sector of uphill cobbles into this gorgeous French town.

Hey Yaroslav, want a coke?

…said Jelle, ever the considerate one, to an out of the race Yaroslav Popovych as we drove by. Popovych leaned over, managed a faint smile and declined.

Post-Kemmel out of this world

I’ve never seen or heard anything like it at a bike race. These images don’t do the scene justice - and I really love them. These are some of my favorite shots from any race, anywhere. I don’t know if we’ll ever experience anything like this again - we certainly haven’t before Sunday. The farmers were protesting, and they used Gent-Wevelgem as their grand stage.

the chase.

Roelandts had just bridged across to Tjallingii, was just about to drop him and begin his audacious exploit, and behind, the remnants of the field were chasing full gas. I wonder if they noticed the scene.

As a side-note: Ashley was in the bucket of a front end loader for these two shots.

demonstrationville.

For a serious topic and a serious demonstration, the collected farmers seemed to be having a great time.

Farmers turned cycling fans.

Write your story here. (Optional)

I don't know where we were.

…but it was wet, cold, and miserable - and getting colder.

the finale begins.

The break, then the chasing field. It looks way closer than it is - and it was about to be Terpstra’s task.

terpstra bridges.

With an improbably large gap between the break and what would officially be called a peloton, Niki Terpstra catapulted off the front and managed to ram his way across in mind-boggling fashion - he crossed the chasm between forgettable day of racing and the very real chance at the win in something like 7km (I think).

the race.

And then, after so much shuffling and re-shuffling, the game was set, and there were six players left at the table - with the lone Roelandts just up the road, playing by himself. The winner would come from one of these seven.

The last spot.

The race for the win had begun in earnest inside of 15k to go. In this moment, Paolini and Terpstra had just managed to wrench free of the rest of their breakmates, Roelandts was in the process of being dropped, and the other four were in a bad way. The faces in this spot say all that’s necessary.

Paolini's moment.

Each year, I think: there’s no way we’re going to make the finish. This year was no different. At one point, we had 8k to go to the finish on normal, open roads - the break also had eight direct kilometers to the finish. It was a tense, fast chase to make the line, but we managed to make it as Paolini crossed under the 1k to go banner. I stayed back a bit, hoping the police and volunteers and organizers wouldn’t make me move. I like this spot. Thankfully, there were only seconds before Paolini arrived, so they left me alone, and so there was this.

Aftermath of victory.

There was the joy of the salute, and then the ten seconds of quiet before the post-win onslaught began. Paolini was expressionless in these seconds. He just rode, head down, like nothing had happened…then, when he arrived to his soigneur and the gathering crowd, the joy returned, bigger than ever.

Roelandts.

A little while after Paolini’s ecstatic win and a little while after the remnants of the break crossed the line - frustrated at a missed opportunity, but happy to be done, Jurgen Roelandts came down the finishing stretch to huge applause. The former Belgian champion was justifiably shattered at the finish following his titanic solo effort. Years seemed to have been wrenched from his body during the day’s effort. When people talk of the 2015 Gent-Wevelgem, they’ll always remember - the wind, Paolini, and Roelandts’ incredible bid for victory.