Paris-Roubaix is a crazy race, so why not freak out completely and drive all the way up from Eibar in the Basque country to Compiègne on the eve of the race? So we did, me and Mr. Flockton, after having fought our way through a manic Vuelta al Paìs Vasco. It was only a 591 miles long drive, or 951 odd kilometers for those of you scrambling for a conversion chart. A mere 9 hours on poorly lit highways, just perfect in order to under-perform on the cobbles of Roubaix. Tommeke waved us goodbye, and the dust filled our lungs - but it was great taking part in the Hell of the North. Bits and bobs photography wise over here!