With the local cyclocross scene finished for the year, talk among my cycling friends has turned to the Spring Classics, which begin in a little less than two months. For some of the lucky few of us who visited Belgium for the week of De Ronde, Gent-Wevelgem, and Paris-Roubaix, the thrill of the upcoming races is cut by the ache of being on the wrong side of the Atlantic. Still, there's enough memories and evidence to keep me happy for a few years before I'll really need to return.
One afternoon still haunts me through all the great beer I drank and happy miles I cycled. On the Tuesday before Gent-Wevelgem, I rode out to Wevelgem with Bill and Pryor on a mission to visit the Westvleteren monastery cafe - literally holy ground for beer and the home of the world's best beer.
I'd checked the website for hours and dates they were closed, but I missed that before Easter they were closed an entire week. Not only was my pilgrimage met with locked doors (see picture, right), but they were closed for the extent on my time in Belgium.
The grim discovery of my malted and hopped holy grail being closed stung, the beer gods soon smiled upon me. Later that week while overtaking our friendly tour guide Jan's home town of Retie - a town only described to us as, "you are in Retie, you must drink beer" - I told my sad-sack story to an sympathetic bar owner. With a slight smile he nodded and simply told me to return later that evening.
The owner talked to his bartender, who called his brother-in-law, who then brought in a bottle of Westvleteren 10, the best beer in the world. I was floored by the generosity as much as I was by beer's sweet taste. It was, without trying to pump up the hyperbole, heavenly nectar from godly people.
Yes, I'll never forget that those monks took a week off for Easter (so selfish, really). But like just about every beer or bike-related story I know from Belgium, there was eventually a very happy ending.
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