Paris-Roubaix is a race that, for most, needs no introduction. The so-called Hell of the North, a 257km war of attrition, sits atop many professional cyclists' bucket lists. The 19 cobbled sectors scattered across the race route make this event memorable. Rated from one to five stars, these brutal sections of 'road' beat the riders into submission, whittling down the field with each passing sector. Only the strong and lucky will survive.
For most of you reading, this is familiar information as this is one of the most well-documented bike races in the world. Many parts of this race are unique, not just the bowling ball-sized cobble sectors. There is also the historic velodrome finish line, the luggage-unfriendly "cobble' trophy, and finally, there are the showers. That's right, the showers.
Built-in the early 20th century, the velodrome showers have been used by riders to clean themselves off after the gruelling race ever since. With plaques of past winners stuck to the shower walls, the showers are considered as much a part of the race as the cobbles and velodrome.
To say that one of my bucket list items has been to shoot these hallowed grounds would be a massive understatement. That's right, I have fallen asleep at night to the thought of taking pictures of sweaty men showering. Wow… when I write it out like that, it hits differently. Anyway, moving on.
This year as part of my Spring Classics project, I was fortunate enough be have the opportunity to shoot this beautiful race, including the famous washrooms. Now, if you are sitting there thinking it would feel weird standing around waiting for a cyclist to walk in and disrobe so you can take their picture, you would be correct. However, at this point, the cyclists know what they are walking into. They want these photos. They want to record the day they conquered the Queen of the Classics.
So there I was, standing in the middle of the velodrome, trophy celebration done, spectators and riders beginning to leave the stadium. Time for a shower… umm, where are the showers? I realised this was vital information, so I did what I have become very good at lately. I just asked. On this occasion, the closest person to me happened to be the world-famous cycling photographer James Starrt who was also on his way to the Douches. Not needing a second invitation, I jumped in behind him as he led the way up over this little dirt mound, through a parking lot and towards what looked like a concrete prison. Yes, there is nothing glamorous here. The incredible images you have seen of the Roubaix showers do WAY too much justice to them. But that is also part of the charm, no frills or fuss here. Just concrete cubicles with wooden benches and a row of chain-actuated showers at the back of each shower room (there are two).
Flashing my credentials to the security at the entrance, I made my way in with about 6-7 other photographers, and then we waited. The first model arrived shortly. It goes without saying that I initially felt a bit like a fish out of water. Standing there waiting, huddled around a cubicle, a dust-covered cyclist sits down and removes his lycra. The trick I learned was not to hesitate, just get stuck in there. Jered Gruber was just to my right, and watching him work was a lesson in itself. He did not hesitate for a second, sitting in the cubicle opposite the rider, getting in close to try to capture the essence of the moment while at the same time knowing exactly when to stand up and give the rider space because he was about to get very naked.
It was amazing how seamless it was; these photographers are called pros for a reason. They have a third sense about when is the right time to get in the face of the riders and when is the time to step back, chatting amongst themselves while they wait, "keen for a beer after this, or how'd the race go for you today". Then just as quickly as they switched off, they sense movement as a rider moves from a cubicle to the showers. Once in the shower and the water running, we all kick back into action. Swarming around him to get that classic black-and-white running water shower shot. It is like a weird dance, a well-choreographed ballet. Or it's more like that famous Marilyn Monroe photo, and we are all trying hard not to look under anyone's dress!
It does not take long to get into the swing of things and get a feel for how it all works. This is part of the Roubaix legend, and I was there adding a small piece to the story. Very cool!
After about an hour of shooting, the fatigue from the long day starts to set in, and I still have to find my way back to Belgium. Granted, its usually only an hour's train journey but at 6pm on a Sunday in northern France, public transport is thin on the ground.
I return to the press room to collect my gear and grab one more tuna baguette from the buffet before heading out. 45 minutes and a €12 Uber later, I am on the train pulling out of Lille Flandres station, heading north back towards Kortrijk. Exhausted, dusty, but oh so happy.
On this day, I took photos in the shower. All is right with the world.