No matter what the Belgians say, the biggest Monument of all is definitely Paris-Roubaix. Its sheer brutality, unpredictability and stones that make their kassien counterparts look wimpy by comparison all add up to the most anticipated race of the Spring, and a fitting end to the cobbled classics, still the most exciting time of the racing year.

This year was the first time in four trips where I wasn’t joined by a dozen others, yet the throng of friends old and new was still quite substantial. My hosts William and Caroline ferried me to Andrew and Natalie’s house in Baisieux, just a kilometre or two from the famous Carrefour de l’Arbe. About twenty or more of their friends enjoyed a lunch on a warm day in the yard and then inside watching the action unfold as it raced across northern France ever closer to us. My good mate Rick drove down from The Hague to help out with the beer drinking, race analysis and spectating which is always a pleasure.

Timing our ride to the Carrefour to the last possible moment, we arrived and picked out our spots among the large crowd assembled around the famous left-hand turn onto the last long run to the café. Sizing up a good straight-on view between some orderly-looking elderly spectators I thought I had my viewpoint sorted. Moments before the riders were due the motorcycle photographers arrived en masse and took the front row positions as is their wont. Of course when Sagan and Dillier came through everyone went nuts and some schlub jumped right into my line of sight, meaning a frantic repositioning and some over-the-crowd random shooting.

As soon as the top 20 or so had passed it was back on the bike for a sprint back to Andrew’s to catch the finale, surprised but pleased to see the two best riders of the day making their way through the streets of Roubaix and into the storied velodrome. We all knew Sagan could sprint but had little clue as to Dillier’s finishing kick, but both were deserving of the top spot on the day. The World Champ’s win was a popular one but the sad news of Michael Goolaert’s cardiac arrest made for a sombre mood. As we departed for our respective destinations we were reminded that for all the legendary status of a race across some French cobblestones, it may seem like a life-changing experience for us but for one young man it was so much more. Vale Michael, Merci Roubaix.