‘I raced Yorkshire’s reply to biking’s most well-known race with some assist from Flanders’

EXCLUSIVE I raced Yorkshire’s answer to one of the most famous bike races on the planet, struggling up ridiculous cobbled climbs with some help from Flanders

View 5 Images

I have a habit of saying yes to ideas before fully realising what I’ve signed up for. Last Sunday (26 April) was the perfect example.

I handed £30 across to a suspiciously friendly volunteer on the outskirts of Halifax to enter the Ronde van Calderdale – Yorkshire’s answer to one of cycling’s most brutal races.

Spring had already started to slip into summer as around 250 other cyclists, presumably all also questioning their decisions, huddled into a lay-by. It wasn’t quite silent, but close – the air filled with low murmurs, the odd cough, and the nervous shuffle of feet and pedals.

JOIN US ON FB! Get all the best sports news and much more on our Facebook page

We all knew what was coming: a string of cobbled climbs, each one steeper, rougher, and more punishing than the last. The locals call it ‘God’s own county’ – I wonder what they did wrong when he designed this landscape.

The event itself is relatively young, first run in 2010 before becoming an official sportive two years later. But its inspiration is anything but. The Ronde, the proper one, is perhaps cycling’s most famous one-day race.

Taking place in Flanders, the northern region of Belgium, the Ronde is defined by short, steep, cobbled climbs. It’s perhaps the closest race to full-blown warfare as wide highways turn into the hellingen that have shaped some of the great rivalries of the sport.

The Koppenberg, Oude Kwaremont and Muur van Geraardsbergen strike fear into every cyclist – and, somehow, Calderdale has found their Yorkshire cousins: Gibb Lane, Shibden Wall and Trooper Lane.

And so to take on these three horrible hills, and the ten other cobbled climbs dotted along the route, I called in some help from Flanders itself.

Van Rysel is even younger than the Ronde van Calderdale, but it has made quite the splash in the cycling world. Based in Lille, just a short ride from the Flemish bergs, its roots are firmly planted in the terrain that inspired this ride.

“We’re located in Lille, close to the famous cobblestones,” Nicolas Pierron, Van Rysel’s CEO, told Daily Star Sport when we visited their HQ back in 2024.

“This brand is very important because it truly means something…we’re a young brand, but we have big ambitions to reach the top in five years.”

Van Rysel dips into Flemish culture – it literally translates to “From Lille” in English. “This is the reason for creating Van Rysel. Flanders: It’s in our DNA,” Jeremie Debeuf, Van Rysel’s Product Manager, added.

“It has to be in our DNA, this is pure cycling, tough cycling, cycling for the people.” And so equipped with some of their latest RCR kit, I took to Yorkshire’s cobbled climbs with a single hope of completing the course.

I love to go fast, who doesn’t? And on a new bike I’d just finished building with the aero-optimised kit – I felt like I was flying. If only I knew what was to come.

The first cobbled climb, hit at speed thanks to a particularly fast descent, claimed my water bottle – great, 80km without any fluid. I’m not in a rush to repeat that again.

While all of the climbs had my legs screaming, Shibden Wall was the first true test. Reaching over 20 per cent in sections with gaps between the cobbles big enough to swallow a front wheel, it’s a pure game of survival to reach the top.

And the reward for reaching the summit? A treacherous cobbled descent down equally scary gradients. Gibb Lane then looms on the horizon; it’s not as steep but boasts a far worse surface as the road slopes down from the centre.

It’s hell under wheels, but Shibden Wall and Gibb Lane are just the warm-up for the ultimate test.

Trooper Lane is the final climb of the day. I’ve participated in the actual Ronde sportive: conquering the famous Muur, Koppenberg and Kwaremont. The cobbled wall at the end of the Ronde van Calderdale is these three all rolled into one.

It’s a hellish narrow lane that, after a hairpin that reaches 45 per cent on the inside, stretches into the sky in a demoralising straight line. Anything below 20 per cent almost feels flat as it touches 30 per cent in sections.

And what’s the reward for finishing almost 100km with 2,300m of vertical gain? A pie and a pint – neither of which I can enjoy as a coeliac.

However, the pride of rolling back to my car knowing I’ve conquered one of the toughest sportives on these shores was enough.