Three years ago, just days before the Paris-Roubaix race, I embarked on a challenge that would forever change the way I viewed cobblestones. Inspired by the race’s rugged nature, I decided to experience the bone-rattling thrill of riding on cobbled streets — even though my city, London, isn’t exactly home to any rural farm tracks.
Historically, London’s streets were paved with cobbles in the 18th century, laid atop sludgy mud. While most of these have been replaced by modern tarmac, remnants of more than 50 original cobbled streets still remain. Armed with an online route map, I set out to ride all 50 kilometers of them — a decision that would leave my bike worse for wear, but my spirit filled with satisfaction.
Cyclists are often drawn to cobbles, even though they pose numerous challenges. They’re uncomfortable, slow down your pace, and wear down bike parts. But despite these drawbacks, there’s something about the experience that’s irresistibly compelling. My ride around central London took more than four hours, with countless jolts to my body, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
I navigated through the bustling streets of Covent Garden, raced against buses in Wapping, and rattled along the iconic South Bank. I even had to stop twice for punctures, at one point limping to a bike shop 2 kilometers away for a replacement tube. Despite the toll on my bike, the ride was a joyful adventure, and I wouldn’t have considered it a failure — especially with those cobbles involved.
Every year, as the cobbled Classics approach, I’m reminded of that ride. For me, these weeks offer some of the best racing in cycling, with gritty, unpredictable courses. I’ve never had trouble explaining the allure of the Tour de France, but when I mention Paris-Roubaix, I’m often met with disbelief. “A forest with jagged cobbles? Riders hitting them at 70 km/h? You’ve got to be kidding.”
My first visit to the Trouée d’Arenberg — the most notorious section of Paris-Roubaix — left me in awe. While I don’t get starstruck easily, standing on those sharp stones felt surreal. It was as if I had stepped into a holy site, an experience akin to entering the Sistine Chapel. This stretch of road is feared by riders, and yet it holds an undeniable magic.
Since then, my love for cobbles has only grown. Last year, I tackled the Gotthard Pass in Switzerland, an Alpine route with granite cobblestone switchbacks. Later, during a trip to the Paris Olympics, I rented a 20kg bike and took on the cobbled Rue Lepic climb. My mantra is simple: “Show me cobbles, and I will ride them.”
For me, it all comes down to adventure. Smooth tarmac is fine, but there’s only so much of it one can ride before the urge for something more challenging takes over. While some cyclists turn to gravel bikes or mountain bikes, all I need is a little air released from my tires, and I’m ready to face the cobbled roads once again.
Forget pristine Mallorcan asphalt — I’ll always choose the rumble of the cobbles beneath my wheels.
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