Leuven Tielt-Winge

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Antwerpen Brasschaat 🇵🇸

7️⃣8️⃣th in the final classification of the Corsica Cyclo GT20, after a winter disrupted by a broken collarbone and a bikeless trip to Syria. I’m happy with that. But even more happy I am with the thrill of racing in such a spectacular setting, and the immersion in the extraordinary nature of Corsica.

At 7:30 in the morning, a bus takes us from the coast—where we spent the night—back to Ghisoni, the village where yesterday’s stage finished and today’s begins.

Nerves at the starting line are a bit more tense than usual. Especially for Philip Posen , who needs to secure his first place in his age group today. It’s the final stage, and the entire route is timed—so it’s a full day of racing! I’m excited.

My goal: to climb a few more spots in the general classification.

The first 7 km are neutralized, so I take it easy and settle in at the back of the peloton, riding the first ascent à l’aise.

It’s a poor decision. I end up at the back with riders far below my level, and I spend the entire day chasing the right group to work with—only to never find one.

Lesson for the future: believe in yourself more, always start near the front and try to latch onto a group that’s just slightly stronger than your current level (even though I have ‘diesel engine’).

All day long, I’m either riding solo or with just one other rider, gradually overtaking others and leaving them behind.

First climb: 🏔️COL DE VERDE, 14 km, never steep, summit at 1300 m. Again, I’m afraid of burning out too quickly, or triggering knee pain. In the end, none of that would’ve been an issue, but I keep misjudging myself. My heart rate never goes above 150 bpm. I could’ve pushed harder.

The descent: 14 km of pure speed.

Second climb: 🏔️COL DE LA VACCIA, 11 km. I start in a group of five, but the pace is far too slow. One of the guys seems to think the same and takes off. I go with him and spend the entire climb glued to his wheel.

At the mountain pass 1200 m high, there’s a feed station. My breakaway companion doesn’t stop, but I need to refill my water bottle. Some idiot parked his bike right in front of the water station; it tips over, knocks over my bottle, and spills everything. Damn it. My companion is gone—I won’t be catching him now.

The first few kilometers of the descent—a spectacular, narrow road winding down the lush hillside into the valley—are better ridden solo anyway. But once the trail becomes a proper road and the headwind kicks in, riding alone becomes a curse.

The descents in this stage aren’t like the ones where you shoot down like an arrow from a bow — they are so-called ‘keep-pedaling-descents’. It’s thrilling for the racing feeling, but with strong headwinds, it’s better to be in a group. Alone, I’m likely losing a lot of time.

I pass several riders, all of them going too slow, until finally one sticks to my wheel. I hope he’ll take a turn at the front now and then.

The rest of the stage includes three more short climbs and descents, each around 4 kilometers long.

I dropped the guy who was on my wheel—he never took over. But for the past half hour, I’ve been chasing another rider up ahead.

On the first short climb and descent, I can’t close the gap. Behind every corner, he has disappeared behind the next. I’m not sure what this pursuit really is: a torturous tease like Tantalus or a source of motivation.

At the top of the second climb, I finally catch him!

– “It took me half an hour of hard work to catch you—you’re strong,” I say.
– “Well, if you caught me, you’re stronger,” he laughs.

On the final 10 km descent, he’s no longer following. I fly downhill toward Levie.

Around Zonzo, I flash past the Forchi di Bavedda, 7 jagged peaks rising out of the Bavella massif to over 1800 m high, often compared to the Italian Dolomites. They are one of the most photographed natural wonders of Corsica, but I speed by without taking a single photo (just like the rest of the race; racing and photography don’t go well together). Yes, that stings a little—this part of Corsica truly is paradise on Earth.

Levie is the central town of Alta Rocca, a forested region in southern Corsica. White stone houses nestled in a gigantic green bowl, mountains on the horizon. A gem of a place.

But it’s baffling how the road through such an idyllic village can be in such terrible condition. Potholes everywhere. In a descent, no less!

After my rear wheel slams into a pothole, I think: that’s it, flat tire. But thankfully, it’s a false alarm. A kilometer later, I see a rider changing a flat. It’s Gunther Aerts ! Oh no—such bad luck just 3 km from the finish. He’s gutted to lose at least 10 minutes. “This is worse than that car that blocked you before the finish yesterday,” he says. I can’t argue with that.

The final climb is 3.5 km up to Carbini, the finishing village of this year’s Corsica Cyclo GT20. It’s a brutal end to a hard ride, but I feel good enough to pass two groups in those last kilometers.

I reach the finish in Carbini, Gunther arrives a few minutes later. Philip’s already there.

“I fell off the podium by 20 seconds,” Philip says over pasta on the terrace of the local restaurant. “From first to fourth in my age group.”

He shares another important piece of information: ‘During the descents in the group of top 20-riders in the front of the race, where he tried to follow, riders were cutting blind bends on the other side of the road at 60km/h. If a car would’ve come from the other side, it would’ve been certain death. That was just too crazy for me, so I let them go. That’s why I lost the podium.’

Italian rider Simone Casonate relates: ‘I took the same decision. I prefer riding with my brains rather than with my balls.’

The roads during this race were not closed! We were racing between public traffic! I wonder if the race directors are aware of this irresponsible behaviour. They could for example send escort motorbikes to accompany the front 20 riders.

Losing a podium by 20 seconds is a tough blow. He wasn’t able to train for three weeks due to illness, and then to miss third place so narrowly —that’s hard to swallow.

“You pulled a Wout Van Aert,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

It’s a feeling competitive athletes know well: disrupted prep, giving it your all, and falling just short.

Still, fourth place is also an achievement. It’s all relative. I stay right where I was in the general classification: 78th (same as today’s stage result). But I do move up one spot in my age group—finishing 15th out of 33.

The podium ceremony takes ages, but understandably so—the many volunteers and organizers deserve recognition. After an hour of speeches, the winners are finally announced:

Overall winners:
🏆🚵🏻 Lucat Geoffrey (men)
🏆🚵‍♀️ Céline Bourbousson (women)

Our results in the general classification (133 finishers)
🥇 Philip: 2️⃣0️⃣, in 6:52:47 (44 minutes from the winner)
🥈 Gunther: 7️⃣5️⃣, in 8:06:51
🥉 Me: 7️⃣8️⃣, in 8:14:08

Our results in the age groups:
🥇 Philip: 4️⃣ (28 finishers)
🥈 Gunther: 2️⃣0️⃣ (50 finishers; he would’ve been 15th without the flat tire)
🥉 Me: 1️⃣5️⃣ (28 finishers)

One line from the speeches stuck with me, spoken by the man who founded the Corsica GT20 touristic bike route—and thus also this race: “One of the greatest joys of cycling is passing on the passion to others.”

I can relate to that. And it’s the perfect way to wrap this up.

📸 More images: @flotographie73 (Instagram)

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Pieter Stockmans

Corsica 🇫🇷 Cyclo GT20 5️⃣ Ghisoni-Carbini

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