The Next Chapter
You can just imagine the family working where we’ve started to dig out the new pool. Originally the vegetable garden, you can still see the built-in benches in the remains of the stone walls where they would rest. We’re definitely keeping those benches.
The position of the pool moved several times during planning and was discussed at length over months, as are all the renovation plans; but, ultimately, the house always reveals what is best and we’ve learned to trust that. There is always an initial idea of what we want but when you live on a property like this one, you get to know it. All the quirks, how it functions and how people flow through the spaces, the scars of wear and tear, the layers of modernization—it isn’t a blank slate. Respecting what is here always presents challenges but working with what we have allows us to refurbish and reinvent instead of replace and erase.
For the recent updates to the Germa building, we especially wanted to reinstate the doors opening onto the courtyard. The action is always in the courtyard and it’s probably been that way since the house was built. We wanted to re-establish that connection, not just for the building, but so our guests can feel that connection too. It’s easy to think of Can Campolier as historical, and it is, but it’s also still a functioning property so it’s not just about highlighting what it used to be, it’s also about showcasing what it still is.
There is so much history on this land and, as we modernise and bring the Rocacorba Cycling vision to life, there is a hope that this will become another chapter in the long story of Can Campolier. The truth is the house has 300 years of history before us and hopefully, with our help, 300 years of history after us. It’s a significant part of our lives but we are merely custodians of Can Campolier, hoping to leave it better for the future.
The Sting Of Bad Luck
Flanders is one of those races where it still means something if you finish. The tiniest country roads, the unforgiving rough and stupidly steep cobbles, the blood sport fight to position yourself before the climbs, and don’t forget the weather if Mother Nature decides to show up. Actually, it’s one of those races where it still means something if you start and CCC-Liv started perfectly.
No doubt it was the best race we had done as a team. For the first 115 kilometres we had this amazing rhythm, operating like a well-oiled machine and then some. We were riding together, positioned well, Marianne felt amazing and so did I. To have everyone come together like that, it was just another level. We had the goods to pull off a win, we just needed the luck.
The final 30 kilometres is where the big bets are made. I knew we had the fire power to execute the final strategy but as we got together on the Kanarieberg (climb #6) someone switched my wheel. Somehow I didn’t crash and, after a quick foot down, I started to chase back. I wasn’t too far behind but there also wasn’t a lot of time before the next climb, the cobbled Taaienberg (climb #7), where the pressure would continue.
I didn’t have a choice: I had to go all in to catch the peloton or it was race over. I didn’t even have to think about making a decision, my legs were already powering across the gap and up the Kanarieberg.
Image: Jojo Harper
Now, I know Belgian roads. I’ve raced in Belgium for many years. I know the cobbles, the narrow roads, the road furniture, and the wide crack right down the centre of their concrete roads. I’m always aware of that crack. I know it’s there but as if two hands reached up and grabbed my wheels, out of nowhere my bike instantly came to a complete stop. My wheels were both perfectly stuck in that centre crack. Like walking into a glass door, it caught me so off guard I only realized what had happened after I hit the ground, slid across the road into the ditch, and came to a stop in stinging nettles.
Grazed and confused, I got up and back to my bike. The drivetrain was all messed up. I definitely needed a new bike but, after the big splits on the Kanarieberg, the team cars were too far behind. Everything had happened so fast that I could actually still see the bunch ahead. It didn’t matter what I had, I needed to go all in again if I was to get back.
Image: Oliver Grenaa
My body was stinging all over from nettles and road rash but my muscles were working. I got back up to speed and as I clicked into an easier gear as I hit the bottom of the Taaienberg, my derailleur went into my back wheel and fell off! “Ok, that’s it,” I thought with a sigh. With the odds so stacked against me, it was smarter to save my legs for the next race.
Up at the front Marriane wasn’t faring much better with a poorly timed puncture. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed; it really wasn’t our day. You can have the best legs and the best team on the day but to win a bike race you always need some luck or, at least, no bad luck. Still, we had finished one of the toughest Spring Classics and the magic of the first 115 kilometres made me believe at the next race our luck would change.