So the saying goes about the Tour of Flanders and 2007 more than proved it: both Nicole Cooke and Alessandro Ballan led their pursuers through the legendary arc up to the church at the top.

"You need to get there early, it'll be closed by 10am." That's what my hotel concierge told me when I said I wanted to watch "De Ronde", as it is universally referred to by the locals, on the iconic Muur-Kapelmuur. What he neglected to mention was what he actually meant was that they closed it to cars, not pedestrians.

At about 10:30am there was me, a handful of television crew, a couple of photographers and some elderly Belgians pitching camp at the top by the church. It feels incredibly atmospheric to be sitting on the bank watching as local club riders and tourists ride to the top, accompanied only by the clank and thump of their wheels and chains as they bounce on the cobbled track.

By about 11:30 we are being treated to a local junior race and the genuinely joyous sight of children as young as five tackling the climb with the sort of unbounded determination only the young can manage. They're on bikes that range from scaled down racers to town bikes and sometimes they look comically big for their riders.

The hill is starting to fill up with fans and those who struggle are given a helpful push and a cheer by the growing crowd. It sets the tone of what to expect: an enthusiastic crowd, in good humour and eager to cheer on a race which is as integral to Belgian culture as the Cup final is to Britain.

I had positioned myself on the outside on the bend with a couple of American fans and we talked excited as we waiting for the women's race in the spot where so many of the familiar images of the race are taken. The local paper details it as not due until nearly 2pm so we settle down to watch the growing crowd and talk cycling.

Finally the police blow their whistles and the lead motorcycle comes through carrying with it a wave of excitement. Down below us the noise builds at the bottom of the hill before snaking its way, ever louder, towards us.

Past the cafe, sharp right, barely looking out of breath comes Nicole Cooke with a clear gap to her pursuers. The British fans perched on the bank, within touching distance, shout themselves hoarse with encouragements as she dances on the pedals over the top.

A quick look back and she is gone as the bunch continues to stream through to further encouragement. It's one of my favourite perversities of cycling that the more the rider looks to be suffering, the louder the cheer from the crowd. I'm sure from the looks on the faces of some of the riders that they wish we wouldn't.

While the televisions down at the cafe are showing the men's race as it rolls towards us, information on the women's race is harder to find, so I'm reduced to using my mobile phone to hunt for news of the result on the internet. Eventually I find confirmation that Nicole has once again proven her Merckx-like dominance of the women's elite and the old adage.

By now the hill is swarming with cycling fans buzzing with excitement. Old-fashioned transistor radios crackle with race commentary while the more modern fans rely on text messages and the internet for updates in the unseasonably warm sunshine of the flandrian Spring.

The Dutch fans in their Rabobank orange drunkenly heckle the Belgians, who remain staunch in their belief that Boonen will win despite his fall and the opposition lined up again him. As the race draws nearer and the helicopters start to circle overhead the crowd grows ever louder and ever more expectant.

Then once again the lead motorbikes come through, the police blow their whistles frantically to clear the road and the roar becomes deafening. We can see them turn onto the bottom of the climb amid a sea of banners and the noise surges towards us again, only this time far louder than before.

As Allessandro Ballan rounds the corner towards us the euphoria is as spine-tingling as it is confusing to try and work out which rider is which. One of the Americans gets lucky and manages to get a picture of Boonen while I'm so confused as whether to cheer or try and take a photo that I end up doing neither well.

As the back-markers come through we race down to the town square in Geraardsbergen to catch the finish. Can Ballan also make good on the adage as well?

With all of Belgium willing on Lief Hoste the sense of disappointment in the crowd when Ballan comes past him in the last ten metres. There would be no wild celebrations to cap another Belgian win in the Queen of Classics this year.