Garmin Supertravessia - TransPortugal
Todo Bien: The TransPortugal Mountain Bike Race
I’m always looking for the next challenge. It started when the Sunday Riders, a small group of friends who ride together, decided one Sunday to enter the TransAlp. It was 2001 we didn’t know what we were letting ourselves in for really (and we were told as much by the other English entrants that year), we just thought it would be a great way to go riding every day in the Alps. Anyway the four of us finished it, weren’t last in the mixed category and enjoyed it so much we decided to enter the first ever TransRockies the following year. We finished that then we tackled La Ruta, the Cape Epic and having completed the ‘big four’ as we called them what was left?
I’d met many friends during these events and remembered Jose Maria telling me about this race in Portugal, from north to south, it sounded good. Guided only by a Garmin GPS device the race had been condensed this year from 11 days into 8 days, I decided I would enter. Unfortunately no other Sunday Riders could make it so I talked it up to honorary member, Keith Bontrager (another friend met during these events) and off we went to Lisbon.
Like La Ruta this is a solo person race. In other ways it is like no other. The rider is totally self sufficient during each stage. You’re allowed to stop and buy food or water but not take anything off any support vehicle or race follower.
Riders are awarded time advantages for being women and over 35 (great, I was both) KB was also over 35 and considerably (sorry) more so than me so I figured a Whacky Racers style event was in the making, him chasing me down every day, me trying to stop the catch by any means necessary (evil snigger).
We transferred from Lisbon to the start in Bragança (a 6 hour drive) and were given a lesson in GPS usage. I was concerned about this but it all seemed pretty straightforward, put the arrow on the pre-downloaded red line route and stay on it. What could be simpler, a blue line shows where you’ve been so if you go wrong you retrace the path and get back on it. I tried it out that evening by leaving the group before dinner and riding up into the amazing fortress town that is Bragança, an array of tiny cobbled streets, surrounded by old city walls, oops I was lost within minutes. After a bit of concentration and a long trip around the old and new town I finally located the hotel and managed to get back just in time for dinner!
24 people were entered this year, four South African Cape Epic finishers, the previous years winner Cal Burgart (another friend met during the big four) who at 63 was even older than KB. The rest were Portuguese including one other woman.
Sunday dawned hot and sunny and Cal set off 11/2hours before the main group, I started ½ hour later, KB some 20 mins after that. It was a 141km stage to the town of Freixo with 3750m climbing. It was tough, 38º a big climb at the start and then constantly undulating dirt tracks and climbs for the rest of the day. The scenery was incredible, really remote riding and the GPS seemed totally reliable, pointing out water stops and any major left or right deviations from the track. I was in a quandary – how do you ride when you’re not in a pack? Just put your head down and try and make up time on the guy in front I guess and don’t look back too often!
There were 3-4 checkpoints each stage; nothing provided just great encouragement and times of the riders in front if required. By 50km I was wondering where everyone was, I hadn’t seen Cal and nobody had caught me yet – weird, it didn’t last long. Ricardo Melo (this years race winner) and the fast boys were approaching, very polite as they passed by and of course they give you that 10 second opportunity to try and keep up with them. Anyway the day ended and only 4 people had managed to overtake me, Cal was still ahead so I ended up 6th. A little crowd had gathered in the tiny village to welcome us, wow this was going to be good.
KB suffers terribly in the heat (despite the fact he’s a Californian) but finished along with 18 of the other riders. Only day 1 but with 6 not finishing and a very long hot day in the saddle for all of us the race was already taking it’s toll.
Day 2 dawned way too quickly. After dinner and the race briefing, there wasn’t much time for sleep and recovery. Freixo to Affliates another long day, 113km but slightly less climbing 2152m, and this mainly in one long 20km slog. Highlight though was a long single-track descent on huge black slate boulders into a deep ravine mostly rideable except for some very exposed switchback corners. This however didn’t help those saddle sores, which most people seemed to have after the day before, it was hot again and the long undulating track for the second half of the race was into a head wind. Many didn’t finish this stage (KB being one of them) so I got 4th! Then the rain started, heavy thunderstorms all night, was really it really summer in Portugal?
Day 3 and Cal set off in torrential rain, me in slightly less torrential rain and it had virtually stopped before the others set off. The thunderstorms continued off and on all day, this was to be one of the easier days with a distance of just 107km and altitude gain of 2100m. It went through the wonderful hilltop village of Monsanto and Antonio the race organiser deviated the course around the cobbled streets so we all got a guided tour. An awesome rocky descent and some lovely climbs made this one of my favourite days of riding, that and the fact that I’d overtaken Cal at last and led the race for at least 2 hours! KB and Cal pulled out of this stage in Monsanto – a great place to do this. Both felt unwell and were unable to eat anything, they weren’t the only ones.
Day 4, more rain overnight and mud, deep, wheel sapping mud alongside a river valley that we were to follow for quite some distance. Cal and I got there before it was too badly churned up but the sheer effort of pedalling and the gumming up of every part of the bike made it really hard going especially for the later riders. This was a rocky stage and we had been warned about the 5km of rocky track we had to cycle along. Flat and awful, you can’t sit down, you can’t get any rhythm and every part of your body aches. This was another of the ‘easier’ days 108km, 2445m altitude gain. The finish was another fantastic hilltop village Castelo de Vide, the sting in the tail was the steep cobbled climb up steps to the tiny street where the villagers had allowed us to finish.
I had to attempt at least a bit of the climb and even managed a few of the steps egged on by a group of local children before the sheer effort of it got the better of me and I had to get off and walk the rest. A few more casualties today including the other woman rider Christina who had sustained a fractured rib on a descent the previous day but had nobly started the stage and continued the next few days too. They’re made of tough stuff these Portuguese women.
Days 5 and 6 were two of the longest stages. 161km with 3650m altitude gain followed by 168km with 2394m altitude gain. How were we meant to get through this given what had gone before? Take it easy and pace yourself was Antonio’s advice. We had now entered the Alentajo region of southern Portugal where acres of arable farmland meant gates became the issue . Not easy-opening gates, but gates strung of wire (sometimes barbed) between wooden poles and fastened so tightly they sprung open and projected themselves across the track in a tangled heap when released.
Now remember I mentioned the Whacky Racers earlier, well KB I actually saw on this stage but unfortunately when he dropped behind a little and I couldn’t see him after waiting a while, I was so concerned with escaping cattle I closed a gate. We’d been riding, 3 of us together, and leaving the gates for the next person to close. KB didn’t see the closed gate as he was looking at his GPS at that moment managed to hit it at some considerable speed and projected himself some distance without his bike. Oops, no evil snigger, it wasn’t deliberate honest! He did however have to drop out later that day with a niggling back injury. Me, I continued, managing to write a note and leave it on one gate for the next person to let them know to close it after I’d spent a considerable amount of effort trying to refasten the bloody thing (yes I was carrying paper and a pen). We were to go through some 60 or so of these.
The finish in Monsaraz was shortened Day 5 to avoid yet another mighty climb up to the village, Antonio was becoming concerned with the attrition rate. Christina had crashed into my back wheel coming out of a descent just before the last checkpoint and she’d fallen again, I got off lightly with a broken spoke. My concern was would I make it back in time for England’s world cup match starting at 18.30. KB was sitting in a bar watching the afternoon match that day as I stopped for water – ‘do you think I’ll make it back in time for the start?’ I said. ‘Not unless you ride like the wind’ was his reply or something similar, anyway it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. ‘You’re so bloody lucky not to be finishing this stage’ I said as I stormed out.
Tears rolled down my cheeks today on yet another rocky section, the saddle sores were agonising and when I was out of the saddle my big toe nail which was near to falling off was banging against the top of my shoe, why am I doing this…….? I think this was my bad day!
Anyway I made it back at 19.00, KB had organised a quick lift for me to the hotel to see the match and I lay down in the bar of the beautiful pueblo style hotel and watched the remainder with a beer (England 2 Trinidad & Tobago 0).
The second 100 mile stage and again Antonio had to step in and change the route a little, mud had made one section impassable so we were grateful to be diverted onto the road. Sunflower fields were a feature of the landscape we were now crossing. We seemed a little closer to the end, grape vines, not seen since the Douro region in the north, were replacing crops and cattle. The weather after a brief reprieve yesterday was back to rain and head wind, the mud was sticky, the gears barely shifted but KB caught me, albeit after 130km. It makes such a difference having someone to ride along with for a while. We finished muddy and tired in Castro Verde but with only two more days to go the end was nigh.
Day 7 saw us riding 117km with 2552m altitude gain. Antonio had changed the course again to miss out a big cross country climb which could have been muddy, unfortunately the first 6 riders that day, me included, didn’t see the arrow drawn on the road to deviate us, we ended up following the original course, we were given time back at the end of the day. Many deep, brown water rocky river crossings later we started into the mountains of the Algarve. The Garmin led us through eucalyptus woods to one of the biggest climbs of the race. Up through many false switchback summits to the top of the mountain on difficult slate rock terrain. This sort of climb you’d love if you had the energy. KB climbed it all, while some of us only managed a few sections. Many of the Portuguese really looked forward to this, it was in their back yard, they were nearly home. An equally long descent led us to the finish in a beautiful Algarve hotel in Monchique where we could almost smell the sea.
Day 8 the shortest day of the race, only 95km and 1950m altitude gain. My 5th place overall pretty secure, I decided to take some photos, and actually take it easy. I’d only taken a few photos during the rest of the race and was deeply regretting not stopping when I saw a huge stork nest perched atop a telegraph pole with the stork mother and chick peering over the side, cute eh (well I am a midwife!) The single track in this stage is the most you see. After one awesome steep descent over a mountain and up the other side, with a gentler bail out switchback descent for the tired among us, you hit the coast at 50km and start along the cliffs behind the beach.
Wow it’s spectacular, even more so when you start riding it, watching and envying less insane people as they sunbathe, swim and throw Frisbees. A few hike a bike sections later and singletrack terrain very similar to the that in Fruita, CO (of all places) you see a lighthouse in the distance that is the finish at Sagres.
The ride to the lighthouse is through pot holed sand, not really easy going and like everything in Portugal constantly undulating. The finish is right on the beach, a bevy of the support staff blow whistles and scream as you approach the ramp that takes you right onto the sand, bemused sunbathers applaud. It’s done, it’s awesome, a bottle or two of Sagres beer seems fitting now. Cal won the final stage to redeem some of his lost esteem after his disappointment at having to drop out earlier in the race and KB rode the last 3 days in fine form.
That evening the award ceremony was held in a local restaurant and we all got our finish certificates and the first three riders their prizes. Throughout this race the organisation and support was incredible. Antonio Malvar the race organiser, an accomplished endurance rider himself, knows Portugal like the back of his hand. All of the stages are off-road with only a few connecting road sections.
The stages finish in some of the most beautiful villages where a food tent was set up for the riders, notably potatoes with olive oil and salt and other snacks and drinks. We were taken to the hotel accommodation for the night our bags were already in our rooms, dinner and breakfast were provided. The food in Portugal is really very good and there was always plenty of it, pork, steak and bacalhau (salt cod) being the staples. Antonio was on hand to help with any bike problems overnight and his team of helpers would do anything they could for you. A briefing was held after the dinner outlining the next stage. This, in true Mediterranean style, happened quite late at night. A brief outline, for those of us who preferred sleep, was provided by Louize (designated English translator) at breakfast.
If you’re looking for a challenge and like to race then this is an incredible event. It’s tough, when you race you push yourself to the limit, doing so you’re going to see parts of Portugal it would take you years to see as a tourist. You’re going to meet some great people too – and you just might get hooked! If racing isn’t your thing Antonio also does this route as a tour, over 16 days.
By the way, I got the picture of another stork nest on the way back from Sagres to Lisbon!
Monday, 17 March 2008
Bike Challenge Poland 2006
Bike Challenge 2006
This year’s bike trip sees us peeking behind the iron curtain and entering the BikeChallenge race in Poland.
Against all my common sense we have to fly to Poland from Stansted, the thought of a five-day stage race pales into insignificance compared to the ordeal of getting to the airport by public transport and that was before they announced a planned rail strike. I tentatively asked our friendly local taxi-man if he could do us a deal which turned out to be so appealing that we booked him even though the strike was called off. Paul and Jim were getting there by rail but as fate had it there had been a storm during the night, which had damaged power cables, and no trains were running, they too had to resort to a cab at extortionate expense. At the airport we meet up with Ken and Lawrence from Edinburgh, whom we had contacted over the internet, (and googled so we know they’re quite fit) and catch the Ryanair flight to Wroclaw in southwest Poland. We land with the airline’s trademark side-skid effect (– do they train all their pilots to do that?) at a tiny hut in the middle of pasture land and WW2 ruins with a fire engine from the same period escorting us to a standstill. Relatives are cheering from the perimeter fence all of 2 metres away and the terminal is lined with armed guards. The doors close firmly behind us. At passport control, Paul looks so bad that he has to produce his driving licence with another photo as proof that he really is an international athlete, granted it is hard to believe.
Ken had arranged the transfer from Wroclaw to Duszniki with the race organiser and it was Grzegorz himself that picked us up in a van and took us to the starting town, a two hour trip through cobbled street villages, very Austrian looking but just a little bit scuffed around the edges. During the trip we learn that the friendly young chap used to be a pro road racer, having lived in Belgium for 4 years racing with the Colstrop-Palmans pro team – the same as South Western’s very own Roger Hammond. He had retired in 2000 to concentrate on running one-day marathon mtb events and this was the second year for the 6 day BikeChallenge. We arrive at the Hotel Sonata, shower, change and set off to explore this delightful spa town, centred around a stunning sanatorium located in enormous manicured grounds with ornamental gardens and fountains. We find a restaurant and enjoy trying to decipher the menu, very little English is spoken here, we end up picking any meal and seeing what materialises. It’s hard to work out what we’ve ordered even when it’s in front of us! Our pizza is great but Paul’s fish still has its face on and is looking pretty indignant at being eaten by such a dodgy looking cyclist. At the next table are equally dodgy looking chaps, one of whom picks up Lawrence’s camera, we pose for the picture but he gaily wraps his arms around Lawrence and insists on the two being photographed together – cute!
The next morning we unpack the bikes and I’m appalled to spot a rip in my rear tyre and a deep scar in the front. I can't believe it - I’d ordered new tyres weeks before but they hadn't arrived and the spare tyres, that I didn't feel confident on, I'd left behind due to weight restrictions but they'd have been better than nothing! Raymond patches them with strapping and we plan to get new ones tomorrow, the mechanical back-up are bound to have some or there’s a good shop in the next town. We decide to recce tomorrow’s prologue which climbs up the fairly steep cobbled street onto a concrete track, where Raymond spots a dead mole. We continue up in dappled shade through pine trees deviating off road onto a dirt track before rejoining the tarmac for a steep kick to the summit. The track then drops into the local biathlon stadium. We take an off road trail back into the village, spot a sign saying ‘beware wolves’ – scary! and pass through the park stopping to taste the mineral waters en route – yuk! Anything tasting that bad must do you the power of good.
As we prepare to get a good night’s sleep the town is jolted awake by wailing sirens, it sounds like a bombing raid, I stagger bleary eyed to the window to be greeted by the sight of tens of young men sprinting in nothing but their boxer shorts towards the fire station! Within minutes the fire engines, with their now fully clad crew hanging from the doors, are zooming off into the distance. You don’t get that in Dorking!
Monday morning dawns bright and sunny, we wander down to the park to register and collect our race bags. These are still being filled with goodies and there is no sign of any mechanical support crews yet, so we decide to get a taxi to the neighbouring town of Klodzko to find the bike shop and get new tyres there. The taxi-man doesn't speak English, we don't speak Polish but we know the word for 'bike'. He takes us to a bike rental shop that gives him directions for a proper cycle shop, he drives us across town and locates the shop. They have my tyres but only on a fully assembled bike and they don’t seem keen to swap the tyres. They direct us to another shop where we find panaracers that I've used before, we get them but they'll be slow running. Time to get back, en route we see lots of Germans holding a vigil at a shrine and unfortunately resurfacing makes it a slow journey, it's now 1pm.
The prologue. Duzsniki 3.5km
The Bike Challenge is run very much along the lines of other races like the TransAlp with one unique exception – the first day is a proper TdeF style prologue time-trial, with teams setting off at minute intervals. The start is at 3pm, as Team 20, we’re off at 3.20.
After changing the tyres, we eat then decide to get our warm up in, just as we’re ready to go the heavens open in a deluge of torrential rain, thunder and lightning, which soon floods the basement of the hotel. By 2.30 it stops leaving us just half an hour, we start the course then head back to the starting arena where Team 14 are just off, we exchange nervous pleasantries with Team 19 Grzegiez and Arek who are Polish and very excited about the race. Once they've gone it's our turn and as it works out our minute men are Ken and Lawrence (Edinburgh CC) and Team 22 behind them are Skid Marks Paul and Jim! I know we'll be passed by the Scots but I so don't want to be caught by those two! The whistle blows and we're off, straight up through the town on steep cobbled lanes, which are still slippery from the rain. I feel awful, very stressed with a blinding headache. Within minutes I'm breathing heavily and my legs are burning, my heart rate soars, I'm hyperventilating, my legs feel dead and my arms hurt. Then my lips go numb, I try to remember my relaxation breathing techniques but to no avail. I'm getting slower and slower, I look ahead at Raymond whose almost track standing wondering what's wrong. I feel sick and dizzy and have palpitations and as the track steepens I get even slower, Ken and Lawrence have flown past and I'm just waiting for Paul and Jim. Raymond is shouting and encouraging me but his voice is so far away. An eternity later we crest the hill and pedal furiously down the other side into the finish arena at the local biathlon centre. Within seconds I feel normal again - how does that work? To my amazement Paul and Jim come in just about 2mins later, they must have gone really badly not to have made up more time on us. As for me I'm left feeling a bit shell shocked - I've never experienced that total out of control body panic before and it has unnerved me.We are directed back down into the village off road, slippery after the rain. We return to the hotel to clean up then get back onto the course to cheer on some other Brits from the Isle of Man. Once it’s all over it’s off to the pasta party for long queues and little food. The results are up and we’re 113, only 6 secs behind Skidmarks and thankfully not as abysmal as I’d feared.
Stage one: Duzsniki (Pol) – Police (Cze) 82.5km
Breakfast has been organised for 6am, yet we don’t start ‘til 10! We opt for a lie-in, take bags down to the truck and go back to the hotel for breakfast, then return to the start for passport control. Our numbers are checked off by scary uniformed soldiers, as we pass into the Czech Republic these will be recorded, any one not signed in won’t be allowed through. All is ready by 8.30am and we hang out the next hour and a half in blazing sunshine, I get the mechanics to tune my gears while I wait. Finally! We’re off! along the road with legs groaning, the route quickly turns off-road onto pine singletrack which becomes rooty and steepens, a queue is forming in front as people gradually dismount. Pushing the bike regulates my breathing and as we remount we begin to overtake many teams, however, I’m very wary of a repeat of yesterday’s panic and am careful not to lift my heart rate too much. We are in the middle of the ‘heroes’ those too fat to climb and too brainless in descending, scary stuff! The first checkpoint looms stocked with fruit and juice, we refuel then join a swampy track interspersed with boulders and more pine forest trails – it’s just like Dorking… we pass under an impressive viaduct and get our feet wet for the first time in a shallow water channel. The next climb leads us past a big green house surrounded by red and white fencing - it’s the borderline and the armed guards are waiting. After a brief foray into the Czech Republic we pass a couple of soldiers in the forest and are back in Poland and a technical descent back into Duzsniki including the most horrible off-camber, slippery long grass section which is much worse than the rocks and steps. We retrace the prologue course under thunderous skies and pass by a hotel whose residents cheer us up a particularly nasty kick-up in the trail. More forest trails lead onto wide, open farmland and bumpy, stony tracks through grain fields, just like the South Downs… We’re back on the Czech side now and it has got very hot with little shade to be found, I’m still hesitant on the climbs but I am impressed with my descending, this bike refuses to be deflected off course by mere rocks and I’m dropping like a demonJ. By the next checkpoint Raymond’s knee is hurting so I give it a quick massage to get him to the finish at Police. Tonight we are residing in the town’s secondary school, food is scarce for us vegans and just weird – some sort of apple rice pudding cake, the massage is good and the showers pleasingly tepid after the heat of the day.
Stage 2 Police (Cze) – Gluszyca (Pol) 75.5km
We wake to blue skies, have breakfast of muesli and bread, complete passport control then change my rear tyre for Raymond’s front tyre in an attempt to speed me up. Again we hang around until the start at 10, we could easily be on the way by 9! Enthusiasm just drains away whilst waiting, although we did spot a huge crane on a nearby chimney pot. Once away we climb out of the village. There’s a bottleneck as we go off-road into a cornfield but the racers soon spread out as the track ascends to a stone cross monument. We pass through more fields then join an old, cobbled drove road, this deteriorates into large steps and boulders and makes a technical descent. I’m managing quite well until the guy in front of me goes over the handlebars and I decide it’s time to walk. Raymond loses his bottle cage, which snaps from the jolting but he retains his bottle and clears the lot. For once I’m being held up on a downhill! KB’s tyre has fantastic grip on the stone slabs. After the checkpoint we climb again, on firetracks and pine trails, then drop down on loose gravel descents. A girl from one of our rival mixed team falls and gets nasty gravel rash, Raymond thoughtfully takes her picture at the next checkpoint just afterwards. Another climb and we cross the border between red and white hoops in the ground, then it’s a very rooty grassy singletrack descent and a long climb on firm forest track, which narrows and gets progressively more rocky and rooty and Raymond manages to knobble Grzegiez (19) off his bike. We pass workers drinking under the trees and later learn that they’ve been bribed to stop felling whilst the race is in progress by the organisers with litres of vodka! At the top is an incongruous white lighthouse, then it’s a choice of a wide boulder strewn descent or an adjacent tight singletrack which unite on a wide very loose, almost vertical, gravel ski piste - a hairy descent to the final checkpoint. Country lanes take us to today’s highlight - THE TUNNELS at Osowka and the reason we entered the race in the first place! The network was devised by invading German forces during WW2 for the secret construction of V2 bombers. The soldiers murdered all the local women and children and forced the men to build the tunnels before killing them too. The entrance is like riding into a wild west gold mine and you can feel a blast of icy air as you approach. The thought of death and the temperature drop from 32’ to just 7’ brings me out in goosebumps. I forget I’m still wearing sunglasses and I can’t see a thing even though I employ Roger’s trick of closing one eye and sticking one leg out before I enterJ We climb a rickety set of wooden steps, walk up through swirling mists, and take photos. Rounding a corner we bump into a tourist guide and his party in hard hats, they enthusiastically point us in the right direction. I suddenly realise that I’ve still got glasses on, take them off and can see quite clearly, and ride out into brilliant sunshine and searing heat. I can’t help feeling slightly disturbed that I’ve just giggled and shrieked my way through such a poignant place. A gravel climb takes us onto some excellent pine singletrack and a final gravel and cobbled track descends past a tempting outdoor lake crusted with sunbathers and swimmers to the finish. The school accommodation is a bit of a walk from the finish and has SWRC coloured railings, the bikes stay upstairs in the gym and the showers are deliciously luke-warm. Our food has settled into a bizarre combination of either rice or pasta with a choice of three toppings: stewed apple and cinnamon compote (seemingly a favourite) and the unvegan options - blueberries in yoghurt or a milky strawberry coulis concoction. Everyone else seems completely unfazed by this but I think it’s just plain weird! I’m inspired to buy tomatoes for sandwiches tomorrow.
Stage 3 Gluszyca (Pol) – Karpacz (Pol) 73km
Indeed I have tomato sandwiches for breakfast. Blue skies herald another ferociously hot day, which starts uphill through the town and out onto forest track. A mixed team passes us and I get the “Lance glance” off the girl, my climbing legs are returning and with a nod to Raymond we attack as the path steepens, re-taking them and several others besides over the long climb, just as well as I’ve got the ‘fear’ on the downhills today after having descended like a demon the past couple of days. Today we see Skid Marks at the checkpoint – that scares them! After refuelling it’s another long climb on firetracks with very steep hairpin bends, our sort of terrain, many teams are walking but we just grind on past them, then wind down a long leaf-littered channel where a cameraman is filming. The route contours the side of a hill through fields of corn and grass and….lo! we encounter a sofa, perched just off the trail in front of a line of wooden observation towers with magnificent views down into the valley! It’s too great a temptation to miss, I drop the bike and run up to sit on it and get my photo taken, alas as I do this all the mixed teams overtake us, but heck! Who would believe a sofa in the middle of nowhere and brand new at that! Photographic evidence would prove to be invaluable as no one else sees it and I was beginning to think it was all a dream! At CP2 they’ve run out of both water and Powerade, the first glitch in an otherwise superbly organised race. Unfortunately, it’s just before the big climb of the day and it’s reached 36’, Raymond’s having a sugar low but melon and oranges revive him. We travel dry-mouthed on stony caminos through a village with a Madonna and child statue, then see an old couple sitting outside their front door watching the race go by, in front of them are two buckets, green for drinking water and blue for dousing sweaty bodies, ‘tis a miracle! We gratefully drink and fill our bottles. Down the street children are offering out water, not needing it, Raymond motions for them to pour it down his neck and they shriek with delight. This sets a precedent and we later hear cries as other riders unwittingly get showered as they pass! The climb is double forest track but relentless and draining, I chose a baby gear and grind away grateful for the shade provided by the trees. After 12km it’s a fast and furious descent to the next check point where they have spring water, just fizzy enough to be disgusting! A dusty pine descent leads to a heavily cobbled camino where a man with his horse and cart waves us through. Our feet are stinging from the impacts, big black butterflies with white edges to their wings encrust the trees. Another rough camino takes us to the finish and a neutralised section on the road into the tourist resort of Karpacz, the biggest place we’ve stayed in. The official finish lies in the sports ground and the school accommodation is a good walk away, tiring when trying to carry heavy bags. There’s only one shower so we wash under a tap before having a massage and then hit the shops. I’m craving a coke and Raymond buys new sunglasses. Locals say it’s been the hottest day for 270 years – we can believe it! On the street, we are met by Nicky and John (Team Orange) who are very excited. They have just discovered the Kolorama - a dry toboggan run and insist we have a go. We sit in plastic trays, get pulled up a hill on a metal runway and released at the top to career back down through loops and berms, excellent fun. Raymond finds a present for lilcuteone and we chat to Arek and Gzregorz before retiring for the night.
Day 4 Karpacz (Pol) – Teplice (Cze) 78km
This morning we are woken by a stern megaphone announcement to get the bags loaded by 8am prompt and we stagger under the weight to the truck before going back to collect the bike and go through passport checking procedures. It’s 8.30 and already boiling hot, we wait, at 9.30 bags are still arriving and we’re herded into the start pen, and still we wait, there’s no shade and I feel sick from the heat. The neutralised start through town finally gets underway at 10.15 and it’s immediately into rocky singletrack where everyone ends up walking. Raymond looses his footing on a loose boulder and jars his shoulder. Once riding, the track settles in to a lovely middle ring grind, again we’re climbing well and pass many teams, Raymond complains I’m making his legs ache! Join road at top and go through official border control then extremely fast road descent into strong headwind, biggest gear bit’n’bitting with another bloke, sharp turn off-road and forest track past social bike riders with kids and panniers, again we’re riding with Team 19 and discover they’re great Top Gear fans! The trail turns into nice wide singletrack through pines, very swooshy and only interrupted by water bars which get more frequent and more proud with sharp lips, we see lots of people stopped with punctures. I’m just thinking we’ve been lucky when ‘pssssst’ my rear tyre goes flat, as we stop we see Skid Marks a couple of feet ahead also fixing a puncture. Once mended we’re on our way, we pass Skidmarks who’ve flatted again and take the bars more gingerly, they soon peter out and trail gets faster leading onto a gravel road and broken concrete descent with a very dodgy bend which I very nearly overshoot. We blast through the next checkpoint riding more stony and grassy caminos and cornfields, gravelled lanes and wooded singletrack. Skid Marks have us in their sights and catch up with us on tight technical singletrack that leads into our first !!!! warning sign - a steep descent looms and we have to slide our way down only to be met by a !!!!! drop – aargh!, A rope has been put up to aid our descent but just gives us burns on our hands, Raymond has to come back for my bike, it’s weight has been a godsend to my descending but carrying the thing is impossible! Next comes a long flat tarmac section, Grzegorz has avoided asphalt more or less completely so far but the respite is welcome. It undulates through the valley, then it’s back on the staple stony climbs under blazing skies, any degree of shade is ridden for and appreciated. I realise I’m getting low on sugar, get a couple of gels down me and feel a lot better. A gravel track leads into open fields with spectacular views of the rock formations, for which this area is renowned, peeking from heavily forested mountainsides. A last boulder strewn descent into a 360’ hairpin complete with photographer and the finish line. Tonight’s school is very close to all the amenities including freezing glacial melt showers, how I would have loved that when I was sweltering in 36’. The vegetarian goulash for tea was fantastic but incited the boys to gluttony. There is a brief rainstorm and Raymond points to the window saying “está lloviendo”, the ‘low-tech Czech’ (whom we’d met in the TransRockies) looks up, grins and babbles at us en español, we’ve found a common language!
Stage 5 Teplice (Cze) – Duszniki Zdroj (Pol) 59km
We wake to more rain and Grzegorz warns there’s heavy rain and flooding in Duszniki. At breakfast Raymond finds muesli and gorges on two big bowlfuls. The obligatory hour and a half wait for the start today has its bonus as by that time the rain has cleared. We also get to see the tiny commuter train trundle past the school. The start takes us out through the town and uphill on a long winding hair pinned tarmac lane, which then snaked back down again. In his attempt to avoid asphalt where at all possible Grzegorz cuts a few of the corners with off road excursions, the last is deep gravel and we slither to a stop and a queue! There is a tiny metal bridge crossing into the forest with gates to negotiate. Through pine trees and blueberry bushes and a small village with rustic decaying buildings to the first checkpoint and a long climb out on double track where we wave at a spectator who bows back to us. Tarmac and forest tracks continue to climb gently until we round a corner and the trail goes vertical! Manic crunching of gears and swearing follow and we grind up through a dark and dusty ethereal forest. One bloke behind us doesn’t seem to be a low enough gear and hollers himself upwards with a loud “Waarrrhhh” mimicking Brian Blessed in his prime! Not to be outdone, Raymond “Waarrrhhh”’s back and this incites a louder yell from the bloke and another guy behind him joins in. Before long there’s an echoing chorus of groans interspersed with manic laughter. My concentration runs out before my legs and I have to pull over to stop before the final bend, Raymond calls ‘watch out’ and I stand back to let a man through. I didn’t realise that Raymond had meant himself not the other bloke and that I’d stepped right into his path forcing him to stop momentarily but he soon recovered and went on to clear more than anyone else, all but the last 4 feet which really were ~1:2. As we joined a long plateau through cornfields we could still hear distant graunches from people in the wood.
The dry ground spits dust from the wheels in front that gets into your eyes despite glasses. Tractor ruts lead to a small village set on a hill with a cobbled street running up through it that looked like the legendary Huy. Raymond has exerted himself and climbs this one slowly, the steep hair pinned road descent is a blast and we flick off road to cross the border back into Poland. A grassy cobble-stoned jeep track meanders upwards, Raymond is getting slower and annoyed, when he says something to me it provokes an entirely unreasonable angry response and I suddenly realise that I need to eat – getting irritable and annoyed for no reason is my usual cue for sugar. Once I’ve downed a couple of gel shots it suddenly occurs to me that he’s probably sugar bonked too. I urge him to eat but we can hear the noise from the checkpoint ahead. As we get to the top of the hill we find not a checkpoint but a family playing an improvised band on dustbin lids, plastic bottles and cutlery! Raymond stops to photo them and eats. A dusty descent takes us to another multi-day endurance must-have –a water crossing! We leave the road to plough upstream, pass under a bridge and rejoin the same road. I struggle to find my balance on the slippery rocks in the current and hold people up, again the weight of the bike is telling, but the cold water is bliss in the unrelenting heat.
The trail runs through farmland and across wooden bridges over small streams and I get a sense of deja-vu. Sure enough the track drops into the shallow stream next to the impressive viaduct we passed under on Day 1. The final checkpoint is here, we grab some fruit and continue on road that gradually morphs into track then pine needled dirt climb into the outskirts of Duszniki. A rival mixed team is just ahead and we pass them before the top, a good technical singletrack leads back down but a bloke who’s remounting his bike and straddling the whole path blocks me. This allows another mixed team to pass us as we join the road into the finish. The team we had passed attack on the road and we jump on their wheels but it’s been so long since I’ve done this that we don’t manage to pass them. It turns out they were trying not to lose time on the other mixed team over which they had a 2 min advantage! We cross the line in a jumble of bikes and handshakes. Team 19 come in later and are infectiously euphoric at completing the race.
We have reserved another night at the Sonata so ride our bikes up then walk down to collect our bags. Raymond asks where to hand in the transponders and inadvertently gets us interviewed by the organiser’s TV crew. The presentation is set for 6pm, at the hotel we shower and change and just as we’re about to leave the heavens open. We wait for the worst to stop then go into town, stopping by the finish to see if anyone has handed in any lost property, Paul has left all his cycling clothes in the gym this morning. We get to the party to find all the veggie food has gone so we go back for a pizza instead. Later there is a slide show and video footage of the days riding and Raymond treats himself with bib shorts to match the event top. We say thanks to Grzegorz for a very successful trip and leave him to play drinking games. I sleep fitfully in the comfy bed as I’m now used to stone floors.
Grzegorz has arranged our transport back to Wroclaw, we meet him for lunch but he’s carrying a hangover as first prize for last night’s efforts. He’s very keen for our thoughts on the race and we say that the only downside was the relatively late starts, otherwise the BikeChallenge comes highly recommended. Poland and the Czech Republic are beautiful countries, the scenery was fantastic, the weather gorgeous and the race encompassed more off-road than others we’ve done, Raymond described it as all the best bits of the TransAlps squashed together with the tarmac taken out. Grzegorz happily tells us he’s negotiated with the Czechs and the race is secured until 2010, so as the lovely international mountain bike girlie says at the end of the promo film “come and do it”!! JG
This year’s bike trip sees us peeking behind the iron curtain and entering the BikeChallenge race in Poland.
Against all my common sense we have to fly to Poland from Stansted, the thought of a five-day stage race pales into insignificance compared to the ordeal of getting to the airport by public transport and that was before they announced a planned rail strike. I tentatively asked our friendly local taxi-man if he could do us a deal which turned out to be so appealing that we booked him even though the strike was called off. Paul and Jim were getting there by rail but as fate had it there had been a storm during the night, which had damaged power cables, and no trains were running, they too had to resort to a cab at extortionate expense. At the airport we meet up with Ken and Lawrence from Edinburgh, whom we had contacted over the internet, (and googled so we know they’re quite fit) and catch the Ryanair flight to Wroclaw in southwest Poland. We land with the airline’s trademark side-skid effect (– do they train all their pilots to do that?) at a tiny hut in the middle of pasture land and WW2 ruins with a fire engine from the same period escorting us to a standstill. Relatives are cheering from the perimeter fence all of 2 metres away and the terminal is lined with armed guards. The doors close firmly behind us. At passport control, Paul looks so bad that he has to produce his driving licence with another photo as proof that he really is an international athlete, granted it is hard to believe.
Ken had arranged the transfer from Wroclaw to Duszniki with the race organiser and it was Grzegorz himself that picked us up in a van and took us to the starting town, a two hour trip through cobbled street villages, very Austrian looking but just a little bit scuffed around the edges. During the trip we learn that the friendly young chap used to be a pro road racer, having lived in Belgium for 4 years racing with the Colstrop-Palmans pro team – the same as South Western’s very own Roger Hammond. He had retired in 2000 to concentrate on running one-day marathon mtb events and this was the second year for the 6 day BikeChallenge. We arrive at the Hotel Sonata, shower, change and set off to explore this delightful spa town, centred around a stunning sanatorium located in enormous manicured grounds with ornamental gardens and fountains. We find a restaurant and enjoy trying to decipher the menu, very little English is spoken here, we end up picking any meal and seeing what materialises. It’s hard to work out what we’ve ordered even when it’s in front of us! Our pizza is great but Paul’s fish still has its face on and is looking pretty indignant at being eaten by such a dodgy looking cyclist. At the next table are equally dodgy looking chaps, one of whom picks up Lawrence’s camera, we pose for the picture but he gaily wraps his arms around Lawrence and insists on the two being photographed together – cute!
The next morning we unpack the bikes and I’m appalled to spot a rip in my rear tyre and a deep scar in the front. I can't believe it - I’d ordered new tyres weeks before but they hadn't arrived and the spare tyres, that I didn't feel confident on, I'd left behind due to weight restrictions but they'd have been better than nothing! Raymond patches them with strapping and we plan to get new ones tomorrow, the mechanical back-up are bound to have some or there’s a good shop in the next town. We decide to recce tomorrow’s prologue which climbs up the fairly steep cobbled street onto a concrete track, where Raymond spots a dead mole. We continue up in dappled shade through pine trees deviating off road onto a dirt track before rejoining the tarmac for a steep kick to the summit. The track then drops into the local biathlon stadium. We take an off road trail back into the village, spot a sign saying ‘beware wolves’ – scary! and pass through the park stopping to taste the mineral waters en route – yuk! Anything tasting that bad must do you the power of good.
As we prepare to get a good night’s sleep the town is jolted awake by wailing sirens, it sounds like a bombing raid, I stagger bleary eyed to the window to be greeted by the sight of tens of young men sprinting in nothing but their boxer shorts towards the fire station! Within minutes the fire engines, with their now fully clad crew hanging from the doors, are zooming off into the distance. You don’t get that in Dorking!
Monday morning dawns bright and sunny, we wander down to the park to register and collect our race bags. These are still being filled with goodies and there is no sign of any mechanical support crews yet, so we decide to get a taxi to the neighbouring town of Klodzko to find the bike shop and get new tyres there. The taxi-man doesn't speak English, we don't speak Polish but we know the word for 'bike'. He takes us to a bike rental shop that gives him directions for a proper cycle shop, he drives us across town and locates the shop. They have my tyres but only on a fully assembled bike and they don’t seem keen to swap the tyres. They direct us to another shop where we find panaracers that I've used before, we get them but they'll be slow running. Time to get back, en route we see lots of Germans holding a vigil at a shrine and unfortunately resurfacing makes it a slow journey, it's now 1pm.
The prologue. Duzsniki 3.5km
The Bike Challenge is run very much along the lines of other races like the TransAlp with one unique exception – the first day is a proper TdeF style prologue time-trial, with teams setting off at minute intervals. The start is at 3pm, as Team 20, we’re off at 3.20.
After changing the tyres, we eat then decide to get our warm up in, just as we’re ready to go the heavens open in a deluge of torrential rain, thunder and lightning, which soon floods the basement of the hotel. By 2.30 it stops leaving us just half an hour, we start the course then head back to the starting arena where Team 14 are just off, we exchange nervous pleasantries with Team 19 Grzegiez and Arek who are Polish and very excited about the race. Once they've gone it's our turn and as it works out our minute men are Ken and Lawrence (Edinburgh CC) and Team 22 behind them are Skid Marks Paul and Jim! I know we'll be passed by the Scots but I so don't want to be caught by those two! The whistle blows and we're off, straight up through the town on steep cobbled lanes, which are still slippery from the rain. I feel awful, very stressed with a blinding headache. Within minutes I'm breathing heavily and my legs are burning, my heart rate soars, I'm hyperventilating, my legs feel dead and my arms hurt. Then my lips go numb, I try to remember my relaxation breathing techniques but to no avail. I'm getting slower and slower, I look ahead at Raymond whose almost track standing wondering what's wrong. I feel sick and dizzy and have palpitations and as the track steepens I get even slower, Ken and Lawrence have flown past and I'm just waiting for Paul and Jim. Raymond is shouting and encouraging me but his voice is so far away. An eternity later we crest the hill and pedal furiously down the other side into the finish arena at the local biathlon centre. Within seconds I feel normal again - how does that work? To my amazement Paul and Jim come in just about 2mins later, they must have gone really badly not to have made up more time on us. As for me I'm left feeling a bit shell shocked - I've never experienced that total out of control body panic before and it has unnerved me.We are directed back down into the village off road, slippery after the rain. We return to the hotel to clean up then get back onto the course to cheer on some other Brits from the Isle of Man. Once it’s all over it’s off to the pasta party for long queues and little food. The results are up and we’re 113, only 6 secs behind Skidmarks and thankfully not as abysmal as I’d feared.
Stage one: Duzsniki (Pol) – Police (Cze) 82.5km
Breakfast has been organised for 6am, yet we don’t start ‘til 10! We opt for a lie-in, take bags down to the truck and go back to the hotel for breakfast, then return to the start for passport control. Our numbers are checked off by scary uniformed soldiers, as we pass into the Czech Republic these will be recorded, any one not signed in won’t be allowed through. All is ready by 8.30am and we hang out the next hour and a half in blazing sunshine, I get the mechanics to tune my gears while I wait. Finally! We’re off! along the road with legs groaning, the route quickly turns off-road onto pine singletrack which becomes rooty and steepens, a queue is forming in front as people gradually dismount. Pushing the bike regulates my breathing and as we remount we begin to overtake many teams, however, I’m very wary of a repeat of yesterday’s panic and am careful not to lift my heart rate too much. We are in the middle of the ‘heroes’ those too fat to climb and too brainless in descending, scary stuff! The first checkpoint looms stocked with fruit and juice, we refuel then join a swampy track interspersed with boulders and more pine forest trails – it’s just like Dorking… we pass under an impressive viaduct and get our feet wet for the first time in a shallow water channel. The next climb leads us past a big green house surrounded by red and white fencing - it’s the borderline and the armed guards are waiting. After a brief foray into the Czech Republic we pass a couple of soldiers in the forest and are back in Poland and a technical descent back into Duzsniki including the most horrible off-camber, slippery long grass section which is much worse than the rocks and steps. We retrace the prologue course under thunderous skies and pass by a hotel whose residents cheer us up a particularly nasty kick-up in the trail. More forest trails lead onto wide, open farmland and bumpy, stony tracks through grain fields, just like the South Downs… We’re back on the Czech side now and it has got very hot with little shade to be found, I’m still hesitant on the climbs but I am impressed with my descending, this bike refuses to be deflected off course by mere rocks and I’m dropping like a demonJ. By the next checkpoint Raymond’s knee is hurting so I give it a quick massage to get him to the finish at Police. Tonight we are residing in the town’s secondary school, food is scarce for us vegans and just weird – some sort of apple rice pudding cake, the massage is good and the showers pleasingly tepid after the heat of the day.
Stage 2 Police (Cze) – Gluszyca (Pol) 75.5km
We wake to blue skies, have breakfast of muesli and bread, complete passport control then change my rear tyre for Raymond’s front tyre in an attempt to speed me up. Again we hang around until the start at 10, we could easily be on the way by 9! Enthusiasm just drains away whilst waiting, although we did spot a huge crane on a nearby chimney pot. Once away we climb out of the village. There’s a bottleneck as we go off-road into a cornfield but the racers soon spread out as the track ascends to a stone cross monument. We pass through more fields then join an old, cobbled drove road, this deteriorates into large steps and boulders and makes a technical descent. I’m managing quite well until the guy in front of me goes over the handlebars and I decide it’s time to walk. Raymond loses his bottle cage, which snaps from the jolting but he retains his bottle and clears the lot. For once I’m being held up on a downhill! KB’s tyre has fantastic grip on the stone slabs. After the checkpoint we climb again, on firetracks and pine trails, then drop down on loose gravel descents. A girl from one of our rival mixed team falls and gets nasty gravel rash, Raymond thoughtfully takes her picture at the next checkpoint just afterwards. Another climb and we cross the border between red and white hoops in the ground, then it’s a very rooty grassy singletrack descent and a long climb on firm forest track, which narrows and gets progressively more rocky and rooty and Raymond manages to knobble Grzegiez (19) off his bike. We pass workers drinking under the trees and later learn that they’ve been bribed to stop felling whilst the race is in progress by the organisers with litres of vodka! At the top is an incongruous white lighthouse, then it’s a choice of a wide boulder strewn descent or an adjacent tight singletrack which unite on a wide very loose, almost vertical, gravel ski piste - a hairy descent to the final checkpoint. Country lanes take us to today’s highlight - THE TUNNELS at Osowka and the reason we entered the race in the first place! The network was devised by invading German forces during WW2 for the secret construction of V2 bombers. The soldiers murdered all the local women and children and forced the men to build the tunnels before killing them too. The entrance is like riding into a wild west gold mine and you can feel a blast of icy air as you approach. The thought of death and the temperature drop from 32’ to just 7’ brings me out in goosebumps. I forget I’m still wearing sunglasses and I can’t see a thing even though I employ Roger’s trick of closing one eye and sticking one leg out before I enterJ We climb a rickety set of wooden steps, walk up through swirling mists, and take photos. Rounding a corner we bump into a tourist guide and his party in hard hats, they enthusiastically point us in the right direction. I suddenly realise that I’ve still got glasses on, take them off and can see quite clearly, and ride out into brilliant sunshine and searing heat. I can’t help feeling slightly disturbed that I’ve just giggled and shrieked my way through such a poignant place. A gravel climb takes us onto some excellent pine singletrack and a final gravel and cobbled track descends past a tempting outdoor lake crusted with sunbathers and swimmers to the finish. The school accommodation is a bit of a walk from the finish and has SWRC coloured railings, the bikes stay upstairs in the gym and the showers are deliciously luke-warm. Our food has settled into a bizarre combination of either rice or pasta with a choice of three toppings: stewed apple and cinnamon compote (seemingly a favourite) and the unvegan options - blueberries in yoghurt or a milky strawberry coulis concoction. Everyone else seems completely unfazed by this but I think it’s just plain weird! I’m inspired to buy tomatoes for sandwiches tomorrow.
Stage 3 Gluszyca (Pol) – Karpacz (Pol) 73km
Indeed I have tomato sandwiches for breakfast. Blue skies herald another ferociously hot day, which starts uphill through the town and out onto forest track. A mixed team passes us and I get the “Lance glance” off the girl, my climbing legs are returning and with a nod to Raymond we attack as the path steepens, re-taking them and several others besides over the long climb, just as well as I’ve got the ‘fear’ on the downhills today after having descended like a demon the past couple of days. Today we see Skid Marks at the checkpoint – that scares them! After refuelling it’s another long climb on firetracks with very steep hairpin bends, our sort of terrain, many teams are walking but we just grind on past them, then wind down a long leaf-littered channel where a cameraman is filming. The route contours the side of a hill through fields of corn and grass and….lo! we encounter a sofa, perched just off the trail in front of a line of wooden observation towers with magnificent views down into the valley! It’s too great a temptation to miss, I drop the bike and run up to sit on it and get my photo taken, alas as I do this all the mixed teams overtake us, but heck! Who would believe a sofa in the middle of nowhere and brand new at that! Photographic evidence would prove to be invaluable as no one else sees it and I was beginning to think it was all a dream! At CP2 they’ve run out of both water and Powerade, the first glitch in an otherwise superbly organised race. Unfortunately, it’s just before the big climb of the day and it’s reached 36’, Raymond’s having a sugar low but melon and oranges revive him. We travel dry-mouthed on stony caminos through a village with a Madonna and child statue, then see an old couple sitting outside their front door watching the race go by, in front of them are two buckets, green for drinking water and blue for dousing sweaty bodies, ‘tis a miracle! We gratefully drink and fill our bottles. Down the street children are offering out water, not needing it, Raymond motions for them to pour it down his neck and they shriek with delight. This sets a precedent and we later hear cries as other riders unwittingly get showered as they pass! The climb is double forest track but relentless and draining, I chose a baby gear and grind away grateful for the shade provided by the trees. After 12km it’s a fast and furious descent to the next check point where they have spring water, just fizzy enough to be disgusting! A dusty pine descent leads to a heavily cobbled camino where a man with his horse and cart waves us through. Our feet are stinging from the impacts, big black butterflies with white edges to their wings encrust the trees. Another rough camino takes us to the finish and a neutralised section on the road into the tourist resort of Karpacz, the biggest place we’ve stayed in. The official finish lies in the sports ground and the school accommodation is a good walk away, tiring when trying to carry heavy bags. There’s only one shower so we wash under a tap before having a massage and then hit the shops. I’m craving a coke and Raymond buys new sunglasses. Locals say it’s been the hottest day for 270 years – we can believe it! On the street, we are met by Nicky and John (Team Orange) who are very excited. They have just discovered the Kolorama - a dry toboggan run and insist we have a go. We sit in plastic trays, get pulled up a hill on a metal runway and released at the top to career back down through loops and berms, excellent fun. Raymond finds a present for lilcuteone and we chat to Arek and Gzregorz before retiring for the night.
Day 4 Karpacz (Pol) – Teplice (Cze) 78km
This morning we are woken by a stern megaphone announcement to get the bags loaded by 8am prompt and we stagger under the weight to the truck before going back to collect the bike and go through passport checking procedures. It’s 8.30 and already boiling hot, we wait, at 9.30 bags are still arriving and we’re herded into the start pen, and still we wait, there’s no shade and I feel sick from the heat. The neutralised start through town finally gets underway at 10.15 and it’s immediately into rocky singletrack where everyone ends up walking. Raymond looses his footing on a loose boulder and jars his shoulder. Once riding, the track settles in to a lovely middle ring grind, again we’re climbing well and pass many teams, Raymond complains I’m making his legs ache! Join road at top and go through official border control then extremely fast road descent into strong headwind, biggest gear bit’n’bitting with another bloke, sharp turn off-road and forest track past social bike riders with kids and panniers, again we’re riding with Team 19 and discover they’re great Top Gear fans! The trail turns into nice wide singletrack through pines, very swooshy and only interrupted by water bars which get more frequent and more proud with sharp lips, we see lots of people stopped with punctures. I’m just thinking we’ve been lucky when ‘pssssst’ my rear tyre goes flat, as we stop we see Skid Marks a couple of feet ahead also fixing a puncture. Once mended we’re on our way, we pass Skidmarks who’ve flatted again and take the bars more gingerly, they soon peter out and trail gets faster leading onto a gravel road and broken concrete descent with a very dodgy bend which I very nearly overshoot. We blast through the next checkpoint riding more stony and grassy caminos and cornfields, gravelled lanes and wooded singletrack. Skid Marks have us in their sights and catch up with us on tight technical singletrack that leads into our first !!!! warning sign - a steep descent looms and we have to slide our way down only to be met by a !!!!! drop – aargh!, A rope has been put up to aid our descent but just gives us burns on our hands, Raymond has to come back for my bike, it’s weight has been a godsend to my descending but carrying the thing is impossible! Next comes a long flat tarmac section, Grzegorz has avoided asphalt more or less completely so far but the respite is welcome. It undulates through the valley, then it’s back on the staple stony climbs under blazing skies, any degree of shade is ridden for and appreciated. I realise I’m getting low on sugar, get a couple of gels down me and feel a lot better. A gravel track leads into open fields with spectacular views of the rock formations, for which this area is renowned, peeking from heavily forested mountainsides. A last boulder strewn descent into a 360’ hairpin complete with photographer and the finish line. Tonight’s school is very close to all the amenities including freezing glacial melt showers, how I would have loved that when I was sweltering in 36’. The vegetarian goulash for tea was fantastic but incited the boys to gluttony. There is a brief rainstorm and Raymond points to the window saying “está lloviendo”, the ‘low-tech Czech’ (whom we’d met in the TransRockies) looks up, grins and babbles at us en español, we’ve found a common language!
Stage 5 Teplice (Cze) – Duszniki Zdroj (Pol) 59km
We wake to more rain and Grzegorz warns there’s heavy rain and flooding in Duszniki. At breakfast Raymond finds muesli and gorges on two big bowlfuls. The obligatory hour and a half wait for the start today has its bonus as by that time the rain has cleared. We also get to see the tiny commuter train trundle past the school. The start takes us out through the town and uphill on a long winding hair pinned tarmac lane, which then snaked back down again. In his attempt to avoid asphalt where at all possible Grzegorz cuts a few of the corners with off road excursions, the last is deep gravel and we slither to a stop and a queue! There is a tiny metal bridge crossing into the forest with gates to negotiate. Through pine trees and blueberry bushes and a small village with rustic decaying buildings to the first checkpoint and a long climb out on double track where we wave at a spectator who bows back to us. Tarmac and forest tracks continue to climb gently until we round a corner and the trail goes vertical! Manic crunching of gears and swearing follow and we grind up through a dark and dusty ethereal forest. One bloke behind us doesn’t seem to be a low enough gear and hollers himself upwards with a loud “Waarrrhhh” mimicking Brian Blessed in his prime! Not to be outdone, Raymond “Waarrrhhh”’s back and this incites a louder yell from the bloke and another guy behind him joins in. Before long there’s an echoing chorus of groans interspersed with manic laughter. My concentration runs out before my legs and I have to pull over to stop before the final bend, Raymond calls ‘watch out’ and I stand back to let a man through. I didn’t realise that Raymond had meant himself not the other bloke and that I’d stepped right into his path forcing him to stop momentarily but he soon recovered and went on to clear more than anyone else, all but the last 4 feet which really were ~1:2. As we joined a long plateau through cornfields we could still hear distant graunches from people in the wood.
The dry ground spits dust from the wheels in front that gets into your eyes despite glasses. Tractor ruts lead to a small village set on a hill with a cobbled street running up through it that looked like the legendary Huy. Raymond has exerted himself and climbs this one slowly, the steep hair pinned road descent is a blast and we flick off road to cross the border back into Poland. A grassy cobble-stoned jeep track meanders upwards, Raymond is getting slower and annoyed, when he says something to me it provokes an entirely unreasonable angry response and I suddenly realise that I need to eat – getting irritable and annoyed for no reason is my usual cue for sugar. Once I’ve downed a couple of gel shots it suddenly occurs to me that he’s probably sugar bonked too. I urge him to eat but we can hear the noise from the checkpoint ahead. As we get to the top of the hill we find not a checkpoint but a family playing an improvised band on dustbin lids, plastic bottles and cutlery! Raymond stops to photo them and eats. A dusty descent takes us to another multi-day endurance must-have –a water crossing! We leave the road to plough upstream, pass under a bridge and rejoin the same road. I struggle to find my balance on the slippery rocks in the current and hold people up, again the weight of the bike is telling, but the cold water is bliss in the unrelenting heat.
The trail runs through farmland and across wooden bridges over small streams and I get a sense of deja-vu. Sure enough the track drops into the shallow stream next to the impressive viaduct we passed under on Day 1. The final checkpoint is here, we grab some fruit and continue on road that gradually morphs into track then pine needled dirt climb into the outskirts of Duszniki. A rival mixed team is just ahead and we pass them before the top, a good technical singletrack leads back down but a bloke who’s remounting his bike and straddling the whole path blocks me. This allows another mixed team to pass us as we join the road into the finish. The team we had passed attack on the road and we jump on their wheels but it’s been so long since I’ve done this that we don’t manage to pass them. It turns out they were trying not to lose time on the other mixed team over which they had a 2 min advantage! We cross the line in a jumble of bikes and handshakes. Team 19 come in later and are infectiously euphoric at completing the race.
We have reserved another night at the Sonata so ride our bikes up then walk down to collect our bags. Raymond asks where to hand in the transponders and inadvertently gets us interviewed by the organiser’s TV crew. The presentation is set for 6pm, at the hotel we shower and change and just as we’re about to leave the heavens open. We wait for the worst to stop then go into town, stopping by the finish to see if anyone has handed in any lost property, Paul has left all his cycling clothes in the gym this morning. We get to the party to find all the veggie food has gone so we go back for a pizza instead. Later there is a slide show and video footage of the days riding and Raymond treats himself with bib shorts to match the event top. We say thanks to Grzegorz for a very successful trip and leave him to play drinking games. I sleep fitfully in the comfy bed as I’m now used to stone floors.
Grzegorz has arranged our transport back to Wroclaw, we meet him for lunch but he’s carrying a hangover as first prize for last night’s efforts. He’s very keen for our thoughts on the race and we say that the only downside was the relatively late starts, otherwise the BikeChallenge comes highly recommended. Poland and the Czech Republic are beautiful countries, the scenery was fantastic, the weather gorgeous and the race encompassed more off-road than others we’ve done, Raymond described it as all the best bits of the TransAlps squashed together with the tarmac taken out. Grzegorz happily tells us he’s negotiated with the Czechs and the race is secured until 2010, so as the lovely international mountain bike girlie says at the end of the promo film “come and do it”!! JG
Cape Epic 2005
The Sunday Riders go to South Africa for the Cape Epic – an 8-day mountain bike stage race from Knysna to Stellenbosch, a distance of 900km.
Monday 28th March
Today we go to South Africa, our bags and bikes are packed and it’s off to Heathrow to catch our flight. SAA have informed us that bike carriage is a set price of $60, armed with documents we approach the check-in. All goes smoothly until the woman sees the bikes and mentions something about excess baggage. Suspecting that we are going to get stung per kg I tell her what the airline told me about the fee. She shakes her head and consults another clerk. I get the paperwork out, she looks it over, shakes her head and calls for a supervisor. I retrieve a second paper confirming the price and ask where we can go to pay it. Her frown is deepening and after a scratch of her head she tells us that she’s sure the bikes should go free of charge! All paperwork is hastily withdrawn and we swiftly deposit our bikes into the oversize luggage chute and board the jumbo for the flight to Cape Town. The pre-flight talk tells us that sleeping on the floor is not allowed, we hadn’t thought of sleeping in the aisle but once mentioned it magnified into an all-consuming idyll that continued to torment us as we contorted our aching limbs through endless unnatural positions over the ensuing twelve hours.
Tuesday 29th March
Get taxi to Park Inn Hotel in Green Market Square, slap bang in the middle of Cape Town. Explore the area then visit Shane at Bowmans Cycles. KB has given us this contact and we hope to be able to meet up with him and Julie but there’s no sign of them yet. Bowmans will be the official Shimano supplier for the Cape Epic. I buy new gloves that turn out to be the buy of the week.
Wednesday 30th March
The Epic organisers have set up a transfer service to Knysna from the Protea President Hotel. We get a courtesy bus there from our hotel and bump into another mixed pair from Scotland. I know that a colleague of Jim's is doing the race and indeed it is the same person – Jeff and Maggie (Team Bling!). We load the bikes into a trailer and, as we are about to leave, meet Mark and Viv (Team Refuel) our friends from England. We board a bus decked out in the Springboks colours and set off. Along the way the coach provokes cheery waves from passers-by and toots from fellow road users. As we pull into a service station we are confronted by disappointed faces as people, expecting their national rugby heroes, are treated to the sight of skinny cyclists! The countryside is not very inspiring and the mood is not added to by the gathering of black clouds and a strong wind which we can’t help but notice is coming straight from Cape Town, we could be in for 8 days of head winds! As darkness falls the rain begins, battering heavily on the panes. We eventually roll into Knysna, it’s taken over 7 hours – only later do we find out that the coach had obsolete windscreen wipers and our poor driver had driven as fast as he dared with zero visibility!
We are dropped at the Protea hotel and met by Paul, who arrived yesterday, and our old friends, Cal from San Diego and Jose from Portugal. We also meet Mark and Mel (Team Splott Rockets from Cardiff). We are booked in at the nearby Log Inn and, before we retire for the night, check our e-mails. To our horror we find that our joke at being asked to be seeded in the top 50 has backfired; we in at No 25!!
Thursday 31st March
After breakfast we go over to Paul’s hotel to collect and re-assemble our bikes. We ride over to Knysna Cycles where we pass on regards from Gary who met the owner – another Gary, on his visit there last year. He replies that Mr Gary of Knysna Cycles sends his regards back to Mr Gary of F.W.Evans! We meet another mixed pair, Janice and Jamie (Team Sauna Cyclists) who are over with supporter Steve from Alaska and just happen to be part of the infamous Iditabike organisation – why do I get a dreadful feeling that our Alaskan pipe dream has suddenly solidified??
At 2pm we gather for a pre-race bike ride guided by local rider Ian and organised by the other bike shop in town - Action Cycles. Jim has arrived with girlfriend Dymphna and we meet two affable Dutch judo guys - Fred and Francesco. The ride covers the first 10km of the course and rises steeply out of town through a golf course development. Onto wide, undulating fireroads and ‘off-road’ double track. I’m feeling remarkably good to be on the bike after all the travelling. The pace is comfortable and the terrain non-technical, apparently it isn’t going to get much more taxing than that – we’ll see! Once back we get together with Refuel and Julie and KB who have arrived and dine at a local restaurant.
Friday 1st April
Wake to pouring rain! Raymond and I locate the Knysna tourism centre to send our regards to the CEO Craig from his friend Rod, whom we met racing at Thetford last week. We’re getting quite good at all this networking! Next stop is the bank for money and we’re amused by the sign depicting no full face helmets, no smoking and no guns allowed in the foyer, like it’s quite normal to carry guns anywhere else! Visit Action Cycles, who’ll be accompanying the race, then go to the sign-on tent. Deposit R500 for the transponders that go on the bikes, bags and us, and collect our race numbers, bags and timing chips.
A race briefing follows hosted by a familiar face – Mike, the commentator from the TransAlps, a guy who’s definitely on speed. Later we dump all luggage that we don’t need to take with us on a truck to Spier and try to get a good night’s sleep.
Saturday 2nd April
Race Day 1. Knysna – Saarsveld 128.5km, 2940m ascent, 7hr15
5.00am comes around all too quickly accompanied with that sick, lurching feeling that reminds me that I said I wasn’t going to do one of these again! At the start Mike the Man is beating the crowds to fever pitch. Due to our seeding Raymond and I are in the front paddock with all the Olympiad athletes, fish out of water. A choir sings the South African national anthem which blends seamlessly into ‘put your hands up’, a transalp favourite, then the signature song that will send me scuttling for my bike every time I hear it - U2’s Vertigo. As Bono counts down we set off on a ‘neutralised’ start that sees us hurtle down the road behind the motorbikes at 45kph, by the time we turn off-road we’ve lost any advantage that our seeding gave us as cyclists flood by. Up the steep climb then down a steep hair pinned gravel descent, cross a ford, up a steep hill, down a steep hair pinned descent, cross a ford and so it goes on through dense, lush vegetation. Raymond takes a pee stop and is promptly passed by Paul & Jim. It’s taken them an hour and a half to catch us; I’m surprised we lasted out that long! Jim is suffering up hill so we re-take them only to be passed on the next down hill and so it goes. Flying down the next descent I suddenly spot a deep trench across the trail and slam on the brakes to pirouette to a shaky halt, Raymond just manages to miss me, Jim and Paul hurtle past only to stop metres later to fix Jim’s impact puncture from the trench. I later hear that Julie went over the bars and another unfortunate broke a wrist at the same place. Following the water stop is the ‘treacherous singletrack’ bit we’ve been warned against – I drop off the road in trepidation only to find an overgrown double jeep track, which, although very wet and muddy, is completely rideable, just messy. A steep climb leads us to a village green and the second water stop, we Hi-5 the kids and wonder at the roadside fauna of furry calves and singing frogs. We jump onto some wheels to ease our way to the final stop - only 12km to go. We eat bananas then make a speedy exit as on the horizon comes a peleton of 40+ riders. Steep hair pinned ups and downs on a good metalled road follow, this has encouraged people to overcook things, several corners are decked with bleeding bikers. The finish is uphill and at the 5km sign I hear Maggie’s voice behind, this is all I need to spur me up a gear and we cross the line at Saarsveld university campus. Our finish ritual begins – dump bike in Parc Ferme, pick up race bag, locate a tent, get a shower, sleep, go to dining tent at 6pm, eat, watch winner’s presentation, listen to next day’s briefing, go to bed at 9.30pm.
Sunday 3rd April
Race Day 2 Saarsveld – Herbertsdale 145km 2720m ascent 8hr01
5am, we are woken from our gentle slumber by full-on air raid sirens. Our morning ritual begins – dress, pack, breakfast, load race bag in truck, pick up bike, fill water bottles, line up in designated paddock. This is decided by overall placings and we are in zone C. Manic Mike is in full swing an hour before our 7am start. We climb on a dirt road out of the campus and into lush countryside only to be brought to a sudden bottleneck - a river crossing followed by a short up hill push, there’s uproar! People are grumbling that they signed up for a bike ride not a swim and hike, some even remove their shoes and socks and put them back on dry the other side! Us old-handers just take it in our stride. The jeep track then traverses the mountainside; the views are fabulous from the ocean and Mossel Bay to the left, to mountain ranges on the right. As befitting a Sunday the SundayRiders are re-united, we are all riding together, Paul & Jim, Julie & Keith, me & Raymond, with honorary guests Jose and Nunu. Life doesn’t get much better than thisJ As we climb through wild bougainvillea, hibiscus and finbus we are told that someone has spotted an elephant but it’s shy and we don’t see it.
At the water point we take off layers and apply suntan cream, it’s hot under cloudless skies. Fast, wide gravel roads lead to a ford with a very steep climb out, most walk - the SundayRiders all clear it. Somewhere we lose Julie & Keith but Paul, Jim, Raymond and I manage to catch the end of a fast group and hitch a lift on the 'bus' to the next stop. This is preceded by a deep ford through which I blast drenching Raymond from head to foot. Jim reprimands me for actually overtaking him on a downhill! Julie & Keith arrive as we set off, up a red gravel road, stopping only to oil our chains. Supporters await us at the top playing ‘stand up for the champions’ (a TransRockies revival) and giving me a push over the summit. A few hundred metres later there is an almighty bang. It sounds like a shotgun and makes me jump, then my bike squirms alarmingly – my rear tyre has blown its sidewallL “You’re f*ck*d” is Raymond’s succinct observation. Paul & Jim nod agreement and, with little to do to help, continue. Raymond can always improvise in a crisis and binds my tyre with zinc oxide strapping, it bulges horrendously but it’s rideable. Up hills and flats should be ok but I have to slow to a crawl on the downs just in case it goes. I fancy Jim has cursed me!! Still, only 60km to go…. We are passed by all and sundry on the undulating road, it’s so frustrating. Jose is at the next water point and offers us a leather tyre boot to reinforce our tenuous repair, we exchange horrified glances then throw our vegan principles to the wind and accept! 30km of red gravel to go with a previously eagerly anticipated 15km downhill finish. We complete it at a snail’s pace and roll over the line at the pretty village of Herbertsdale. Keith is very naughty and buys me a new tyre – I still owe him! Tonight we decide we don’t need to see the winners in their jerseys and are quite happy to have the following day’s route come as a complete surprise if it means getting to sleep an hour earlier.
Monday 4th April
Race Day 3 Herbertsdale – Riversdale 104km 1435m ascent 4hr42
From today the start is 8am so everything is an hour later. The mountains are shrouded in mist which swirls ever lower until it envelopes us on the start line in a fine damp cloud. A tarmac start allows the formation of several peletons, I get on the back of one but Raymond doesn’t and hitches a lift with many others behind the tandem couple. The pilot looks over his shoulder, sees the crowd he’s towing and moves out, the guy behind him pats him on the back, smiles, nods and pushes him back onto the front telling him he's doing a good job! Julie & Keith have made a flying start and are out of sight, Raymond and Paul take turns towing our group once we turn off onto gravel track but the fast start has frazzled my legs and I’m having difficulty hanging on. No one stops at the first water point, it’s come round too soon, the mist has sunk beneath us now and we’re in glorious blue skies with mountain tops poking through the sunken clouds. Paul gets a spilt in his front tyre, Raymond hands him the borrowed piece of leather and the tape and we continue at a good pace. We meet Mark & Viv as I stop to put suntan cream on before a long, exposed climb which then undulates through farmland to stop 2 where we see Julie & Keith just leaving. We leave the road for overgrown grassy tracks, pass through a deep ford with barbed wire that I walk but Raymond rides and climb an actual singletrack with Arno & Jurg from Germany. We stick with their group along fast fire roads until – bang – Raymond’s rear tyre has ripped in two places. We stare in dismay realising that we’ve given Paul all our tape. We improvise with recycled duct tape by which time Mark & Viv have stopped and give us more tape, then Paul & Jim arrive and once sure we’re ok, continue. It is baking hot and there is no shade but the repair holds well and we soon reach the last water stop with 15km to go on more undulating track. From the plateau we can see our destination, we pass isolated houses and rejoin tarmac to face a hard head-wind to the finish in the school grounds.
Here we see Jeff & Maggie, they’ve been storming but today she’s fallen and is a mass of bruises. Whilst waiting to shower I’m approached by Karen, a supporter from La Ruta, who remembers me! Later, we change Raymond’s tyre and my brake pads that have been rubbing badly. There's great entertainment tonight, S.Africa’s version of a Pop Idol winner, can-can girls and a band of majorettes. This evening there is a microlight flying low over our encampment and Paul has bought himself a hat tagged with ‘Free PF’ good protest gear to wear if he’s ever arrested.
Tuesday 5th April
Race Day 4 Riversdale – Barrydale 110km 2425m ascent 6h24
Everyone seems tired today and the start is much less hectic than yesterday. We retrace the road then bear left onto hard pack dirt gradually climbing through verdant farmland set in a valley between heavily folded mountains, we ride with Paul & Jim them gaining on the downs, us catching on the ups. We are tracked by the microlight which turns out to be the race film crew. At last we get a ‘proper’ hill winding up the mountain to a quarry at the top complete with a Gaudi digger for LilCuteOne. Meet up with the Nampack boys and Weekend Warriors and water stop 1. The descent is a screamer, fast fine red gravel where we overtake a lumbering lorry and by the bottom I’ve got cramp in both feet. Rolling tarmac traverses the valley and winds through heavily wooded tunnels of trees and much appreciated shade to an oasis and water stop 2. What follows next is a rare treat – proper way-marked cycle track through pretty heathland, just like the Peak District. Excellent rocky climb and double track with a spectacular gorge to our right, precariously close at times. It’s Paul & Jim’s territory and they pass us on a rocky descent, then it's muddy puddles with hidden stones and the cameraman catches Raymond making an unscheduled dismount as he hits a ditch. Next, a steep, loose downhill to a river crossing which I don't even think twice about riding but by the cheers of spectators sheltering under a tree it seems llike most people have walked it. More hard packed trail then we join the main road and form a group with some other teams. We catch Maggie & Jeff just before the last water stop. Paul and Jim soon arrive and we leave to tackle the 15km road stretch that will take us over the famed Tradouw pass. It's hot and very reminiscent of Mallorca, I settle into an easy rhythm, we pass Jeff & Maggie again and after a short, sweet descent the road contours the hillside to the finish. We see an ambulance and Cape Epic van speeding past in the opposite direction and hope it's nothing serious. Raymond has hit a serious sugar low and gets shelter on my wheel as I'm feeling strong and happy. Today there has been no injuries, no mechanicals and no pressure to keep up. Paul & Jim come in some time behind us. They had left the last stop and cycled down the hill before Jim realised that he'd left his helmet behind and had to go back for it! Doh!
The official Cape Epic race jerseys are on sale today so we get money from an ATM in the local shop to buy them and pick up some sweets to hand out to the children. Paul uses one of the conveniences on the way back to camp but discovers that the waste pipe from the urinal isn't directed outside when he gets wet feetJ We take grapes to Keith who is laid up in the medical tent with cramps due to dehydration/mineral depletion, Julie however is flying. We also find out that Mark broke a chain today and that the microlight had crashed resulting in a broken leg for the film man. Wednesday 6th April
Race Day 5 Barrydale - Montagu 107km 1125m ascent 6hr20
Today is the long awaited ride through the Sambona game reserve where we can apparently hope to see the 'Big 5'. I start the day by spraining my wrist putting my sleeping bag away, Raymond forgets his water bottle and the zip on my camelback breaks. On the fast tarmac drop out of town I see a person lying in the middle of the road and assume it's a cameraman. I think what a dangerous place it is to take photos. As we pass by it's obvious that it's not a photograher but a marshal who's been struck by the front runners and is badly hurt, a cyclist lies in the gutter behind her. We can't stop and carry on in disturbed mood. The trail is hard packed, stony double track and we pass Julie who's lost Keith. We enter the national park through large gates, high fences line the trail. The terrain is very much like Moab, stepped rock and deep red sand. The only scenery is scrubby, rocky outcrops, no animals are to be seen other than some ants and the only other live presence are the rangers armed with tracking equipment and rifles. The road is dead straight, although undulating, and stretches into oblivion. The sky is overcast in a monotonous grey and I feel like I'm on a turbo trainer in a painted room. It is interminably boring and my mood steadily deteriorates, only a few squirrelly moments in the sand grab my waning attention. Suddenly I'm jolted awake by some actual mountain biking, the trail drops sharply, then climbs just as steeply. It's loose and rocky. The weird thing is - everyone's walking! Even I can ride most of this (although a few sections are hiking bits). Raymond clears more than anyone else around and when asking someone to move out of the way is told that riding it is 'completely unnecessary'! Then it's back to the painted turbo room for a while. After stop 2 there are annoying dried up river beds with thick soft sandy dips into rock strewn channels. A good rock climb follows and a cameraman tells me I'm looking tired! That's not right! He's meant to say "you're looking good" or "only 10mins/3km (delete as necessary) to go" surely? As I'm pondering this I realise I've wandered back into the turbo room and wonder whether those bits were just a dream? I am filled with a sense of intense vitriol that is all consuming.
We reach stop 3 and have 17km to go. Raymond's knee is painful, possibly due to yesterday's fall, he adjusts his pedal spacer to see if that helps. A wide gravel road thankfully leads us out of the reserve and into farmland. I wake from my turbo nightmare to see people working in the orchards and smell sweet roses, my mood lifts. As we near the finish we pass through the outskirts of Montagu, the road is lined with children shouting for chocolate and holding out their hands for Hi-5's. Raymond asks them for chocolate and pretends to clobber them about their heads. Paul & Jim are at the finish where Dymphna has been enjoying the spectacle. We cross the line with the Warriors who are nursing a puncture. Children swarm around us wanting our autographs either on Cape Epic paper or if they haven't got that, on body parts!
This afternoon's routine is spiced up by a leg massage and by having our weight, body fat and hydration levels measured. Raymond is a svelte 5.8% and pronounced an elite athlete, I come in at 7.7% am told that's dangerously low and to go back tomorrow. I decide not to just in case they stop me riding!
Thursday 7th April
Race Day 6 Montagu - Villiersdorp 115km 1170m ascent 5hr52
Today's stage has been shortened from 127km dur to flooding, odd since we've been sweltering under azure skies. Raymond is seriously considering retiring with his knee and I'm plagued with period cramps - happy days! He lowers his saddle, I munch on paracetamol. It's a road blast to start with but we take it slowly to ease Raymond's tendons in. Then we wind through orchards where workers are singing. we gradually gain height and the trees are swapped for bushes with thorns 2" long. We pass the Evans' boys fixing a puncture, they've had several and Raymond gives them a spare tube. They re-pass but no sooner do so than puncture again. I give them a pack of patches and they thank us as the climb ahead. The road drops into a busy town and stop 1. Paul & Jim are just leaving but we pass them only metres down the road with a flat. The next bit must be the diversion as it's a long tarmac section. I'm feeling strong and pull Raymond and his dodgy knee onto the back of a group. We pass Evans' again and ask them what they're playing at - joking that if they fall out of the top 20 Gary said they'd have to work for us! Raymond is rallying and pulls us up the hill and we slipstream two big guys from Germany down the other side. We bit'n'bit like this for miles until we turnoff onto hard pack road through vineyards and stop 2. Here I stock up on pills from the medical tent and we commence the hike-a-bike section. The sun is high and the sand a dazzling white, it gets into my socks. We sweat profusely as we climb and push the bikes up a steep, loose, rocky hill, hindered by the cameramen and paramedics on quad bikes and motorbikes who overtake only to stall in front of us and upset our rhythm. By the top the sand has rubbed big blisters on my heels. Today the mountainside looks scenic under deep blue skies, the rock and sand descent widens to a gravel road interspersed with tarmac sections and we are confronted by a mirage of three white horses wandering in the middle of nowhere. It's fast downhill through farms, orchards and vineyards to stop 3, we leave in a blaze of bourgainvillea following a wide gravel road which winds upwards then down into a strong headwind. Sharp left takes us between apple trees to what looks like the South Downs, a white track winds across the fields, snaking uphill, dotted with groups of cyclists. This is more like it! Masts mark the summit then it’s a sandy downhill to run parallel to a canal where we meet the Sauna duo who’ve also suffered punctures, we hand them a spare tube. A red road leads into town, then a tarmac drag up to the main street and flat sprint to the finish, two mixed pairs hot on our heels, Raymond leads me out but our rhythm is interrupted by some pedestrians stepping into our path. This allows a third mixed pair to join the chase. The guy from Team Beautiful Day takes his chance and just pips me to the line, but his partner is off his wheel and Raymond & I are microseconds behind. She comes in fourth and the aggregate timing system gives us the win!! We have been cycling with this team a lot but have finished behind them every day until now. We shake hands all round, playful rivalry and good camaraderie is always found in these events, it's that common bond of suffering!
We get ice for my wrist and Raymond’s knee and try to settle into our tents, but the field is completely over run with big black crickets that skuttle everywhere you look. Later, when I try to get more ice for my wrist, I’m dragged inside the medical tent and told a doctor will see me, I say I don’t want to bother them, it’s only some ice for a sprain. Nevertheless a doctor appears. Firstly he asks me if I’m a cyclist as the medical tent is designed for treating the racers, I say yes, he says I look far too fresh! Then he asks what I’ve done, I cringe as I tell him I’ve sprained my wrist packing my sleeping bag up. He stifles a laugh, confirms my tendonitits, which is displaying a lovely crepitus on movement, and decides to strap it up. Meanwhile bleeding guys are being brought in on stretchers, the bloke next to me has a couple of hyperdermics in his bum and is waiting to be stitched!
Julie & Keith join us for tea, he looks awful, Julie is thriving. It’s been far too hot for Keith, Julie just tells him to think of ice cubes and penguins before sprinting ahead of him! We sleep despite the constant barrage of insomniac crickets that sing wildly whilst dive bombing the tents, probably wondering where this infestation of orange triangles has come from.
Friday 8th April
Race Day 7 Villiersdorp – Boschendal 115km 1875m ascent 6h20
What they take with one hand they give with the other. Today’s stage has been lengthened from 103km to make up for our disappointment in yesterday’s shortened stage. But something is missing, no Mike, no loud music, has the PA system packed up? Unfortunately no, there is a much more devastating reason for the quietness, at the start we are informed that one of the riders died in his sleep last night. Shocked we hold a minute’s silence before starting our penultimate day at a sombre pace. We turn left after a stretch of main road onto forest track which gradually climbs, turns into narrow double track strewn with rocks. It winds ever upwards, again lots are walking whilst we relish the challenge and ride on until we burst through the cloud and are confronted with the most awesome sight of the trip. To our right the valley lies under thick fluffy white cloud that looks like it’s just discovered gravity and fallen out of the sky. Standing above, you almost want to throw yourself onto it like a giant bouncy castle. The track is edged by pretty heather-like shrubs and the descent is fast and furious. Julie whizzes past minus Keith, I hurtle down at scary speeds, my descending is improving dramatically. The track then meanders along the valley floor, white sand accentuates the heat and I am fighting a losing battle against my cramps having to stop at the roadside several times to wait for them to pass. We are losing lots of time. Stop 2 provides more medication then it’s a road climb, newly tarmaced and sticky in the heat, our tyres make such a squelchy noise as they adhere to the road and suck at the strength in our legs. A clever one way system has been devised as police escorts traffic up the hill then turns round and escorts others back down. All wave and cheer us on, the descent is tempered by a strong head wind but at least it’s cool. A mixture of tarmac and red gravel roads takes us to vineyard country. We cycle a convoluted course between the vines passing loads of people fixing punctures. These include Paul & Jim, who should have been miles ahead, they’d apparently counted 50+ thorns in their tyres. We shout if they’re ok only for me to puncture just metres ahead. As we change the tube Mark & Viv go past, shortly followed by Paul & Jim. We chase after them, cycle through a couple of dirt-devils/mini tornados, (hoping they’d pick us up and deposit us at the finish, pleading they didn’t drop us back at the start!) and circle a reservoir then back between the grapes, we catch Mark & Viv with 5km to go and hope to reel in the boys, but they are nowjere in sight as we rejoin the road and finish on the driveway of a fantastic wine estate in manicured grounds. This is the loveliest setting so far and we laze under the trees lining the finish applauding as people come in. We are shocked to see the arrival of Paul & Jim, who we assumed had finished, but they'd succumbed to yet another puncture. We get a surprise at tea when Paul bumps into Clayton who’s doing some warm weather triathlon training over here and has come to check the race out! Paul retires to bed early, Jim has a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat, he’s coming into form and rapidly wearing Paul out!
Saturday 9th April
Race Day 8 Boschendal – Spier 45km 1875 m 2h54
Our last day and a short one at that. We are treated to a 9.00am start. Through the vineyards, a bottleneck at a tiny water splash, and through a small village, everyone is out to see us go by. Raymond throws the children sweets, often only throwing two when there are four children, sending them fighting to the floor – b*st*rd!
A long winding forestry track allows us to gain places but on the descents it’s so dusty the riders in front appear then disappear like ghosts. A short muddy patch is followed by deep sand then a short sharp climb through some houses. The next hill is steep with two strips of concrete separated by rubble, which makes overtaking difficult. It’s not helped by people dismounting and walking very slowly in front and not willing to get out of the way of others riding. Finally, even I lose patience and I end up yelling at them for blocking my path. The track levels to contour the hillside that is covered in dense bushy heathers and pine trees; under deep blue skies, it looks and smells wonderful. Just as we get to cruising speed Raymond punctures, both Keith & Julie and Mark & Viv pass us by, but we’ve not yet seen Paul & Jim. Once fioxed we continue and see 'Daytripper' Steve at the crest of the hill taking photos. Next, a loose downhill, which I’m starting to excel at, even going off line to overtake people! and a fast fire road that hides a loose left bend, which is to claim a lot of skin before the day is out. As we twist through some proper singletrack we see Clayton who cheers us onwards and upwards. Again there are too many people walking to ride far so we end up sprinting past them pushing our bikes. Good singletrack through the pine trees follows which thankfully I get a clear run at, more firetrack then a sharp right onto part of the UCI world cup course. Hurrah, lovely swooshy trails, bumps and berms but, dear god, people are still walking and getting in the way!?! I despair, even I can manage this! Leaving water point 2 we start the next stony climb with happy, springy legs after the singletrack feast, we meander through more vineyards then join a main road and encounter a queue. Instead of letting us cross the road, or sending us up to the nearby traffic lights to turn us around, the organisers have improvised a portage through a sewer! Julie and Keith are just emerging from the other side. We wait our turn to clamber down into the drainage chute, balance precariously across a ledge under the road and jump over the smelly water to scramble up the other side. There are several reports of people falling in, yuck! Back on the road it’s only 6km to go, through more vineyards and then criss cross several times through a deep stream. We are neck and neck with another mixed pair and gain the advantage as she gets chain suck emerging from the water. We wade the stream for the last time and re-enter the vineyard. I get ready to sprint but Raymond shouts, he’s got a front flat. I can’t believe this and just scream “nooooooooooooooo!” in despair as our rivals sail past. He wants to fix it but I can just make out the tents so the finish can’t be far off. I ask him whether he can ride on it or else to just pick up his bike and run! He rides, carefully unweighting the front wheel, within a few hundred metres the finish arch is in sight, people throng the road and the Nampack guys cheer us in. Raymond controls things admirably even when, in my excitement, I grab his hand as we cross the line! We’ve done it and done it well, ending up 14th/50 in the mixed category and 149th /460 overall. Julie and Keith are chilling out in the shade of some modern art. Mark and Viv aren’t far behind and Paul & Jim come in some time later having had more punctures and Jim adding his skin to the large pile collecting on that sketchy left bend.
So ends the Magical and Untamed Cape Epic. An amazing experience and an incredible feat of organisation. The logistics behind the running of this event must be staggering. With over 900 racers and 300 staff, we were provided with a tent each! There were enormous marquees hosting the dining tent (complete with tables with tablecloths and table centres, I almost expected a dress code), the kitchens, race headquarters, media tent, race hospital, massages, and bag storage. Bike mechanics were on call day and night. Thought had even gone into the provision of the water, all from the same source to prevent stomach upsets, (the Coca-Cola plant in Cape Town), and tankered in to us daily. The showers, 30 perched on the back of a juggernaut, were provided by Absolute Ablutions and were always hot, a first in our multi-stage experience. Search and rescue vehicles, paramedics on quad bikes and motorcycles and 3 water points / 1 medic tent on the course per day. All this was put up one day, taken down, transported to the finish and re-erected the next, all before the pros got there, which was less than 4 hours after the start on some days! That’s a lot of manpower to call upon. All in all - an excellent race if not quite what I was expecting, not as technical but made up for in sheer distance. For the masochist in me, I didn’t feel like I suffered enough! No 12-hour days, our longest was 8 and that was due to a mechanical not the terrain; I slept too well, we were all provided with 6” foam mattresses! And ate too well, Thomas & Dalida cooked vegan meals even managing to procure tofu which is a feat in itself in London let alone a field in the outback of the southern capeJ Big Hi5’s go to the children, who were carrying bags we could barely lift to our tents, washing our bikes and entertaining us in the evenings with singing, dancing and playing in brass bands. The only downside – no finishers’ presentation of shirts and medals which just left it feeling a bit incomplete. But definitely recommended, especially for roadies wanting to try their hand at a multi-stage mtb event or first-timers before tackling the more technically challenging TransAlps / Rockies or Ruta because despite the ‘big-up’ this race could have been done on a cross-bike JG
Monday 28th March
Today we go to South Africa, our bags and bikes are packed and it’s off to Heathrow to catch our flight. SAA have informed us that bike carriage is a set price of $60, armed with documents we approach the check-in. All goes smoothly until the woman sees the bikes and mentions something about excess baggage. Suspecting that we are going to get stung per kg I tell her what the airline told me about the fee. She shakes her head and consults another clerk. I get the paperwork out, she looks it over, shakes her head and calls for a supervisor. I retrieve a second paper confirming the price and ask where we can go to pay it. Her frown is deepening and after a scratch of her head she tells us that she’s sure the bikes should go free of charge! All paperwork is hastily withdrawn and we swiftly deposit our bikes into the oversize luggage chute and board the jumbo for the flight to Cape Town. The pre-flight talk tells us that sleeping on the floor is not allowed, we hadn’t thought of sleeping in the aisle but once mentioned it magnified into an all-consuming idyll that continued to torment us as we contorted our aching limbs through endless unnatural positions over the ensuing twelve hours.
Tuesday 29th March
Get taxi to Park Inn Hotel in Green Market Square, slap bang in the middle of Cape Town. Explore the area then visit Shane at Bowmans Cycles. KB has given us this contact and we hope to be able to meet up with him and Julie but there’s no sign of them yet. Bowmans will be the official Shimano supplier for the Cape Epic. I buy new gloves that turn out to be the buy of the week.
Wednesday 30th March
The Epic organisers have set up a transfer service to Knysna from the Protea President Hotel. We get a courtesy bus there from our hotel and bump into another mixed pair from Scotland. I know that a colleague of Jim's is doing the race and indeed it is the same person – Jeff and Maggie (Team Bling!). We load the bikes into a trailer and, as we are about to leave, meet Mark and Viv (Team Refuel) our friends from England. We board a bus decked out in the Springboks colours and set off. Along the way the coach provokes cheery waves from passers-by and toots from fellow road users. As we pull into a service station we are confronted by disappointed faces as people, expecting their national rugby heroes, are treated to the sight of skinny cyclists! The countryside is not very inspiring and the mood is not added to by the gathering of black clouds and a strong wind which we can’t help but notice is coming straight from Cape Town, we could be in for 8 days of head winds! As darkness falls the rain begins, battering heavily on the panes. We eventually roll into Knysna, it’s taken over 7 hours – only later do we find out that the coach had obsolete windscreen wipers and our poor driver had driven as fast as he dared with zero visibility!
We are dropped at the Protea hotel and met by Paul, who arrived yesterday, and our old friends, Cal from San Diego and Jose from Portugal. We also meet Mark and Mel (Team Splott Rockets from Cardiff). We are booked in at the nearby Log Inn and, before we retire for the night, check our e-mails. To our horror we find that our joke at being asked to be seeded in the top 50 has backfired; we in at No 25!!
Thursday 31st March
After breakfast we go over to Paul’s hotel to collect and re-assemble our bikes. We ride over to Knysna Cycles where we pass on regards from Gary who met the owner – another Gary, on his visit there last year. He replies that Mr Gary of Knysna Cycles sends his regards back to Mr Gary of F.W.Evans! We meet another mixed pair, Janice and Jamie (Team Sauna Cyclists) who are over with supporter Steve from Alaska and just happen to be part of the infamous Iditabike organisation – why do I get a dreadful feeling that our Alaskan pipe dream has suddenly solidified??
At 2pm we gather for a pre-race bike ride guided by local rider Ian and organised by the other bike shop in town - Action Cycles. Jim has arrived with girlfriend Dymphna and we meet two affable Dutch judo guys - Fred and Francesco. The ride covers the first 10km of the course and rises steeply out of town through a golf course development. Onto wide, undulating fireroads and ‘off-road’ double track. I’m feeling remarkably good to be on the bike after all the travelling. The pace is comfortable and the terrain non-technical, apparently it isn’t going to get much more taxing than that – we’ll see! Once back we get together with Refuel and Julie and KB who have arrived and dine at a local restaurant.
Friday 1st April
Wake to pouring rain! Raymond and I locate the Knysna tourism centre to send our regards to the CEO Craig from his friend Rod, whom we met racing at Thetford last week. We’re getting quite good at all this networking! Next stop is the bank for money and we’re amused by the sign depicting no full face helmets, no smoking and no guns allowed in the foyer, like it’s quite normal to carry guns anywhere else! Visit Action Cycles, who’ll be accompanying the race, then go to the sign-on tent. Deposit R500 for the transponders that go on the bikes, bags and us, and collect our race numbers, bags and timing chips.
A race briefing follows hosted by a familiar face – Mike, the commentator from the TransAlps, a guy who’s definitely on speed. Later we dump all luggage that we don’t need to take with us on a truck to Spier and try to get a good night’s sleep.
Saturday 2nd April
Race Day 1. Knysna – Saarsveld 128.5km, 2940m ascent, 7hr15
5.00am comes around all too quickly accompanied with that sick, lurching feeling that reminds me that I said I wasn’t going to do one of these again! At the start Mike the Man is beating the crowds to fever pitch. Due to our seeding Raymond and I are in the front paddock with all the Olympiad athletes, fish out of water. A choir sings the South African national anthem which blends seamlessly into ‘put your hands up’, a transalp favourite, then the signature song that will send me scuttling for my bike every time I hear it - U2’s Vertigo. As Bono counts down we set off on a ‘neutralised’ start that sees us hurtle down the road behind the motorbikes at 45kph, by the time we turn off-road we’ve lost any advantage that our seeding gave us as cyclists flood by. Up the steep climb then down a steep hair pinned gravel descent, cross a ford, up a steep hill, down a steep hair pinned descent, cross a ford and so it goes on through dense, lush vegetation. Raymond takes a pee stop and is promptly passed by Paul & Jim. It’s taken them an hour and a half to catch us; I’m surprised we lasted out that long! Jim is suffering up hill so we re-take them only to be passed on the next down hill and so it goes. Flying down the next descent I suddenly spot a deep trench across the trail and slam on the brakes to pirouette to a shaky halt, Raymond just manages to miss me, Jim and Paul hurtle past only to stop metres later to fix Jim’s impact puncture from the trench. I later hear that Julie went over the bars and another unfortunate broke a wrist at the same place. Following the water stop is the ‘treacherous singletrack’ bit we’ve been warned against – I drop off the road in trepidation only to find an overgrown double jeep track, which, although very wet and muddy, is completely rideable, just messy. A steep climb leads us to a village green and the second water stop, we Hi-5 the kids and wonder at the roadside fauna of furry calves and singing frogs. We jump onto some wheels to ease our way to the final stop - only 12km to go. We eat bananas then make a speedy exit as on the horizon comes a peleton of 40+ riders. Steep hair pinned ups and downs on a good metalled road follow, this has encouraged people to overcook things, several corners are decked with bleeding bikers. The finish is uphill and at the 5km sign I hear Maggie’s voice behind, this is all I need to spur me up a gear and we cross the line at Saarsveld university campus. Our finish ritual begins – dump bike in Parc Ferme, pick up race bag, locate a tent, get a shower, sleep, go to dining tent at 6pm, eat, watch winner’s presentation, listen to next day’s briefing, go to bed at 9.30pm.
Sunday 3rd April
Race Day 2 Saarsveld – Herbertsdale 145km 2720m ascent 8hr01
5am, we are woken from our gentle slumber by full-on air raid sirens. Our morning ritual begins – dress, pack, breakfast, load race bag in truck, pick up bike, fill water bottles, line up in designated paddock. This is decided by overall placings and we are in zone C. Manic Mike is in full swing an hour before our 7am start. We climb on a dirt road out of the campus and into lush countryside only to be brought to a sudden bottleneck - a river crossing followed by a short up hill push, there’s uproar! People are grumbling that they signed up for a bike ride not a swim and hike, some even remove their shoes and socks and put them back on dry the other side! Us old-handers just take it in our stride. The jeep track then traverses the mountainside; the views are fabulous from the ocean and Mossel Bay to the left, to mountain ranges on the right. As befitting a Sunday the SundayRiders are re-united, we are all riding together, Paul & Jim, Julie & Keith, me & Raymond, with honorary guests Jose and Nunu. Life doesn’t get much better than thisJ As we climb through wild bougainvillea, hibiscus and finbus we are told that someone has spotted an elephant but it’s shy and we don’t see it.
At the water point we take off layers and apply suntan cream, it’s hot under cloudless skies. Fast, wide gravel roads lead to a ford with a very steep climb out, most walk - the SundayRiders all clear it. Somewhere we lose Julie & Keith but Paul, Jim, Raymond and I manage to catch the end of a fast group and hitch a lift on the 'bus' to the next stop. This is preceded by a deep ford through which I blast drenching Raymond from head to foot. Jim reprimands me for actually overtaking him on a downhill! Julie & Keith arrive as we set off, up a red gravel road, stopping only to oil our chains. Supporters await us at the top playing ‘stand up for the champions’ (a TransRockies revival) and giving me a push over the summit. A few hundred metres later there is an almighty bang. It sounds like a shotgun and makes me jump, then my bike squirms alarmingly – my rear tyre has blown its sidewallL “You’re f*ck*d” is Raymond’s succinct observation. Paul & Jim nod agreement and, with little to do to help, continue. Raymond can always improvise in a crisis and binds my tyre with zinc oxide strapping, it bulges horrendously but it’s rideable. Up hills and flats should be ok but I have to slow to a crawl on the downs just in case it goes. I fancy Jim has cursed me!! Still, only 60km to go…. We are passed by all and sundry on the undulating road, it’s so frustrating. Jose is at the next water point and offers us a leather tyre boot to reinforce our tenuous repair, we exchange horrified glances then throw our vegan principles to the wind and accept! 30km of red gravel to go with a previously eagerly anticipated 15km downhill finish. We complete it at a snail’s pace and roll over the line at the pretty village of Herbertsdale. Keith is very naughty and buys me a new tyre – I still owe him! Tonight we decide we don’t need to see the winners in their jerseys and are quite happy to have the following day’s route come as a complete surprise if it means getting to sleep an hour earlier.
Monday 4th April
Race Day 3 Herbertsdale – Riversdale 104km 1435m ascent 4hr42
From today the start is 8am so everything is an hour later. The mountains are shrouded in mist which swirls ever lower until it envelopes us on the start line in a fine damp cloud. A tarmac start allows the formation of several peletons, I get on the back of one but Raymond doesn’t and hitches a lift with many others behind the tandem couple. The pilot looks over his shoulder, sees the crowd he’s towing and moves out, the guy behind him pats him on the back, smiles, nods and pushes him back onto the front telling him he's doing a good job! Julie & Keith have made a flying start and are out of sight, Raymond and Paul take turns towing our group once we turn off onto gravel track but the fast start has frazzled my legs and I’m having difficulty hanging on. No one stops at the first water point, it’s come round too soon, the mist has sunk beneath us now and we’re in glorious blue skies with mountain tops poking through the sunken clouds. Paul gets a spilt in his front tyre, Raymond hands him the borrowed piece of leather and the tape and we continue at a good pace. We meet Mark & Viv as I stop to put suntan cream on before a long, exposed climb which then undulates through farmland to stop 2 where we see Julie & Keith just leaving. We leave the road for overgrown grassy tracks, pass through a deep ford with barbed wire that I walk but Raymond rides and climb an actual singletrack with Arno & Jurg from Germany. We stick with their group along fast fire roads until – bang – Raymond’s rear tyre has ripped in two places. We stare in dismay realising that we’ve given Paul all our tape. We improvise with recycled duct tape by which time Mark & Viv have stopped and give us more tape, then Paul & Jim arrive and once sure we’re ok, continue. It is baking hot and there is no shade but the repair holds well and we soon reach the last water stop with 15km to go on more undulating track. From the plateau we can see our destination, we pass isolated houses and rejoin tarmac to face a hard head-wind to the finish in the school grounds.
Here we see Jeff & Maggie, they’ve been storming but today she’s fallen and is a mass of bruises. Whilst waiting to shower I’m approached by Karen, a supporter from La Ruta, who remembers me! Later, we change Raymond’s tyre and my brake pads that have been rubbing badly. There's great entertainment tonight, S.Africa’s version of a Pop Idol winner, can-can girls and a band of majorettes. This evening there is a microlight flying low over our encampment and Paul has bought himself a hat tagged with ‘Free PF’ good protest gear to wear if he’s ever arrested.
Tuesday 5th April
Race Day 4 Riversdale – Barrydale 110km 2425m ascent 6h24
Everyone seems tired today and the start is much less hectic than yesterday. We retrace the road then bear left onto hard pack dirt gradually climbing through verdant farmland set in a valley between heavily folded mountains, we ride with Paul & Jim them gaining on the downs, us catching on the ups. We are tracked by the microlight which turns out to be the race film crew. At last we get a ‘proper’ hill winding up the mountain to a quarry at the top complete with a Gaudi digger for LilCuteOne. Meet up with the Nampack boys and Weekend Warriors and water stop 1. The descent is a screamer, fast fine red gravel where we overtake a lumbering lorry and by the bottom I’ve got cramp in both feet. Rolling tarmac traverses the valley and winds through heavily wooded tunnels of trees and much appreciated shade to an oasis and water stop 2. What follows next is a rare treat – proper way-marked cycle track through pretty heathland, just like the Peak District. Excellent rocky climb and double track with a spectacular gorge to our right, precariously close at times. It’s Paul & Jim’s territory and they pass us on a rocky descent, then it's muddy puddles with hidden stones and the cameraman catches Raymond making an unscheduled dismount as he hits a ditch. Next, a steep, loose downhill to a river crossing which I don't even think twice about riding but by the cheers of spectators sheltering under a tree it seems llike most people have walked it. More hard packed trail then we join the main road and form a group with some other teams. We catch Maggie & Jeff just before the last water stop. Paul and Jim soon arrive and we leave to tackle the 15km road stretch that will take us over the famed Tradouw pass. It's hot and very reminiscent of Mallorca, I settle into an easy rhythm, we pass Jeff & Maggie again and after a short, sweet descent the road contours the hillside to the finish. We see an ambulance and Cape Epic van speeding past in the opposite direction and hope it's nothing serious. Raymond has hit a serious sugar low and gets shelter on my wheel as I'm feeling strong and happy. Today there has been no injuries, no mechanicals and no pressure to keep up. Paul & Jim come in some time behind us. They had left the last stop and cycled down the hill before Jim realised that he'd left his helmet behind and had to go back for it! Doh!
The official Cape Epic race jerseys are on sale today so we get money from an ATM in the local shop to buy them and pick up some sweets to hand out to the children. Paul uses one of the conveniences on the way back to camp but discovers that the waste pipe from the urinal isn't directed outside when he gets wet feetJ We take grapes to Keith who is laid up in the medical tent with cramps due to dehydration/mineral depletion, Julie however is flying. We also find out that Mark broke a chain today and that the microlight had crashed resulting in a broken leg for the film man. Wednesday 6th April
Race Day 5 Barrydale - Montagu 107km 1125m ascent 6hr20
Today is the long awaited ride through the Sambona game reserve where we can apparently hope to see the 'Big 5'. I start the day by spraining my wrist putting my sleeping bag away, Raymond forgets his water bottle and the zip on my camelback breaks. On the fast tarmac drop out of town I see a person lying in the middle of the road and assume it's a cameraman. I think what a dangerous place it is to take photos. As we pass by it's obvious that it's not a photograher but a marshal who's been struck by the front runners and is badly hurt, a cyclist lies in the gutter behind her. We can't stop and carry on in disturbed mood. The trail is hard packed, stony double track and we pass Julie who's lost Keith. We enter the national park through large gates, high fences line the trail. The terrain is very much like Moab, stepped rock and deep red sand. The only scenery is scrubby, rocky outcrops, no animals are to be seen other than some ants and the only other live presence are the rangers armed with tracking equipment and rifles. The road is dead straight, although undulating, and stretches into oblivion. The sky is overcast in a monotonous grey and I feel like I'm on a turbo trainer in a painted room. It is interminably boring and my mood steadily deteriorates, only a few squirrelly moments in the sand grab my waning attention. Suddenly I'm jolted awake by some actual mountain biking, the trail drops sharply, then climbs just as steeply. It's loose and rocky. The weird thing is - everyone's walking! Even I can ride most of this (although a few sections are hiking bits). Raymond clears more than anyone else around and when asking someone to move out of the way is told that riding it is 'completely unnecessary'! Then it's back to the painted turbo room for a while. After stop 2 there are annoying dried up river beds with thick soft sandy dips into rock strewn channels. A good rock climb follows and a cameraman tells me I'm looking tired! That's not right! He's meant to say "you're looking good" or "only 10mins/3km (delete as necessary) to go" surely? As I'm pondering this I realise I've wandered back into the turbo room and wonder whether those bits were just a dream? I am filled with a sense of intense vitriol that is all consuming.
We reach stop 3 and have 17km to go. Raymond's knee is painful, possibly due to yesterday's fall, he adjusts his pedal spacer to see if that helps. A wide gravel road thankfully leads us out of the reserve and into farmland. I wake from my turbo nightmare to see people working in the orchards and smell sweet roses, my mood lifts. As we near the finish we pass through the outskirts of Montagu, the road is lined with children shouting for chocolate and holding out their hands for Hi-5's. Raymond asks them for chocolate and pretends to clobber them about their heads. Paul & Jim are at the finish where Dymphna has been enjoying the spectacle. We cross the line with the Warriors who are nursing a puncture. Children swarm around us wanting our autographs either on Cape Epic paper or if they haven't got that, on body parts!
This afternoon's routine is spiced up by a leg massage and by having our weight, body fat and hydration levels measured. Raymond is a svelte 5.8% and pronounced an elite athlete, I come in at 7.7% am told that's dangerously low and to go back tomorrow. I decide not to just in case they stop me riding!
Thursday 7th April
Race Day 6 Montagu - Villiersdorp 115km 1170m ascent 5hr52
Today's stage has been shortened from 127km dur to flooding, odd since we've been sweltering under azure skies. Raymond is seriously considering retiring with his knee and I'm plagued with period cramps - happy days! He lowers his saddle, I munch on paracetamol. It's a road blast to start with but we take it slowly to ease Raymond's tendons in. Then we wind through orchards where workers are singing. we gradually gain height and the trees are swapped for bushes with thorns 2" long. We pass the Evans' boys fixing a puncture, they've had several and Raymond gives them a spare tube. They re-pass but no sooner do so than puncture again. I give them a pack of patches and they thank us as the climb ahead. The road drops into a busy town and stop 1. Paul & Jim are just leaving but we pass them only metres down the road with a flat. The next bit must be the diversion as it's a long tarmac section. I'm feeling strong and pull Raymond and his dodgy knee onto the back of a group. We pass Evans' again and ask them what they're playing at - joking that if they fall out of the top 20 Gary said they'd have to work for us! Raymond is rallying and pulls us up the hill and we slipstream two big guys from Germany down the other side. We bit'n'bit like this for miles until we turnoff onto hard pack road through vineyards and stop 2. Here I stock up on pills from the medical tent and we commence the hike-a-bike section. The sun is high and the sand a dazzling white, it gets into my socks. We sweat profusely as we climb and push the bikes up a steep, loose, rocky hill, hindered by the cameramen and paramedics on quad bikes and motorbikes who overtake only to stall in front of us and upset our rhythm. By the top the sand has rubbed big blisters on my heels. Today the mountainside looks scenic under deep blue skies, the rock and sand descent widens to a gravel road interspersed with tarmac sections and we are confronted by a mirage of three white horses wandering in the middle of nowhere. It's fast downhill through farms, orchards and vineyards to stop 3, we leave in a blaze of bourgainvillea following a wide gravel road which winds upwards then down into a strong headwind. Sharp left takes us between apple trees to what looks like the South Downs, a white track winds across the fields, snaking uphill, dotted with groups of cyclists. This is more like it! Masts mark the summit then it’s a sandy downhill to run parallel to a canal where we meet the Sauna duo who’ve also suffered punctures, we hand them a spare tube. A red road leads into town, then a tarmac drag up to the main street and flat sprint to the finish, two mixed pairs hot on our heels, Raymond leads me out but our rhythm is interrupted by some pedestrians stepping into our path. This allows a third mixed pair to join the chase. The guy from Team Beautiful Day takes his chance and just pips me to the line, but his partner is off his wheel and Raymond & I are microseconds behind. She comes in fourth and the aggregate timing system gives us the win!! We have been cycling with this team a lot but have finished behind them every day until now. We shake hands all round, playful rivalry and good camaraderie is always found in these events, it's that common bond of suffering!
We get ice for my wrist and Raymond’s knee and try to settle into our tents, but the field is completely over run with big black crickets that skuttle everywhere you look. Later, when I try to get more ice for my wrist, I’m dragged inside the medical tent and told a doctor will see me, I say I don’t want to bother them, it’s only some ice for a sprain. Nevertheless a doctor appears. Firstly he asks me if I’m a cyclist as the medical tent is designed for treating the racers, I say yes, he says I look far too fresh! Then he asks what I’ve done, I cringe as I tell him I’ve sprained my wrist packing my sleeping bag up. He stifles a laugh, confirms my tendonitits, which is displaying a lovely crepitus on movement, and decides to strap it up. Meanwhile bleeding guys are being brought in on stretchers, the bloke next to me has a couple of hyperdermics in his bum and is waiting to be stitched!
Julie & Keith join us for tea, he looks awful, Julie is thriving. It’s been far too hot for Keith, Julie just tells him to think of ice cubes and penguins before sprinting ahead of him! We sleep despite the constant barrage of insomniac crickets that sing wildly whilst dive bombing the tents, probably wondering where this infestation of orange triangles has come from.
Friday 8th April
Race Day 7 Villiersdorp – Boschendal 115km 1875m ascent 6h20
What they take with one hand they give with the other. Today’s stage has been lengthened from 103km to make up for our disappointment in yesterday’s shortened stage. But something is missing, no Mike, no loud music, has the PA system packed up? Unfortunately no, there is a much more devastating reason for the quietness, at the start we are informed that one of the riders died in his sleep last night. Shocked we hold a minute’s silence before starting our penultimate day at a sombre pace. We turn left after a stretch of main road onto forest track which gradually climbs, turns into narrow double track strewn with rocks. It winds ever upwards, again lots are walking whilst we relish the challenge and ride on until we burst through the cloud and are confronted with the most awesome sight of the trip. To our right the valley lies under thick fluffy white cloud that looks like it’s just discovered gravity and fallen out of the sky. Standing above, you almost want to throw yourself onto it like a giant bouncy castle. The track is edged by pretty heather-like shrubs and the descent is fast and furious. Julie whizzes past minus Keith, I hurtle down at scary speeds, my descending is improving dramatically. The track then meanders along the valley floor, white sand accentuates the heat and I am fighting a losing battle against my cramps having to stop at the roadside several times to wait for them to pass. We are losing lots of time. Stop 2 provides more medication then it’s a road climb, newly tarmaced and sticky in the heat, our tyres make such a squelchy noise as they adhere to the road and suck at the strength in our legs. A clever one way system has been devised as police escorts traffic up the hill then turns round and escorts others back down. All wave and cheer us on, the descent is tempered by a strong head wind but at least it’s cool. A mixture of tarmac and red gravel roads takes us to vineyard country. We cycle a convoluted course between the vines passing loads of people fixing punctures. These include Paul & Jim, who should have been miles ahead, they’d apparently counted 50+ thorns in their tyres. We shout if they’re ok only for me to puncture just metres ahead. As we change the tube Mark & Viv go past, shortly followed by Paul & Jim. We chase after them, cycle through a couple of dirt-devils/mini tornados, (hoping they’d pick us up and deposit us at the finish, pleading they didn’t drop us back at the start!) and circle a reservoir then back between the grapes, we catch Mark & Viv with 5km to go and hope to reel in the boys, but they are nowjere in sight as we rejoin the road and finish on the driveway of a fantastic wine estate in manicured grounds. This is the loveliest setting so far and we laze under the trees lining the finish applauding as people come in. We are shocked to see the arrival of Paul & Jim, who we assumed had finished, but they'd succumbed to yet another puncture. We get a surprise at tea when Paul bumps into Clayton who’s doing some warm weather triathlon training over here and has come to check the race out! Paul retires to bed early, Jim has a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat, he’s coming into form and rapidly wearing Paul out!
Saturday 9th April
Race Day 8 Boschendal – Spier 45km 1875 m 2h54
Our last day and a short one at that. We are treated to a 9.00am start. Through the vineyards, a bottleneck at a tiny water splash, and through a small village, everyone is out to see us go by. Raymond throws the children sweets, often only throwing two when there are four children, sending them fighting to the floor – b*st*rd!
A long winding forestry track allows us to gain places but on the descents it’s so dusty the riders in front appear then disappear like ghosts. A short muddy patch is followed by deep sand then a short sharp climb through some houses. The next hill is steep with two strips of concrete separated by rubble, which makes overtaking difficult. It’s not helped by people dismounting and walking very slowly in front and not willing to get out of the way of others riding. Finally, even I lose patience and I end up yelling at them for blocking my path. The track levels to contour the hillside that is covered in dense bushy heathers and pine trees; under deep blue skies, it looks and smells wonderful. Just as we get to cruising speed Raymond punctures, both Keith & Julie and Mark & Viv pass us by, but we’ve not yet seen Paul & Jim. Once fioxed we continue and see 'Daytripper' Steve at the crest of the hill taking photos. Next, a loose downhill, which I’m starting to excel at, even going off line to overtake people! and a fast fire road that hides a loose left bend, which is to claim a lot of skin before the day is out. As we twist through some proper singletrack we see Clayton who cheers us onwards and upwards. Again there are too many people walking to ride far so we end up sprinting past them pushing our bikes. Good singletrack through the pine trees follows which thankfully I get a clear run at, more firetrack then a sharp right onto part of the UCI world cup course. Hurrah, lovely swooshy trails, bumps and berms but, dear god, people are still walking and getting in the way!?! I despair, even I can manage this! Leaving water point 2 we start the next stony climb with happy, springy legs after the singletrack feast, we meander through more vineyards then join a main road and encounter a queue. Instead of letting us cross the road, or sending us up to the nearby traffic lights to turn us around, the organisers have improvised a portage through a sewer! Julie and Keith are just emerging from the other side. We wait our turn to clamber down into the drainage chute, balance precariously across a ledge under the road and jump over the smelly water to scramble up the other side. There are several reports of people falling in, yuck! Back on the road it’s only 6km to go, through more vineyards and then criss cross several times through a deep stream. We are neck and neck with another mixed pair and gain the advantage as she gets chain suck emerging from the water. We wade the stream for the last time and re-enter the vineyard. I get ready to sprint but Raymond shouts, he’s got a front flat. I can’t believe this and just scream “nooooooooooooooo!” in despair as our rivals sail past. He wants to fix it but I can just make out the tents so the finish can’t be far off. I ask him whether he can ride on it or else to just pick up his bike and run! He rides, carefully unweighting the front wheel, within a few hundred metres the finish arch is in sight, people throng the road and the Nampack guys cheer us in. Raymond controls things admirably even when, in my excitement, I grab his hand as we cross the line! We’ve done it and done it well, ending up 14th/50 in the mixed category and 149th /460 overall. Julie and Keith are chilling out in the shade of some modern art. Mark and Viv aren’t far behind and Paul & Jim come in some time later having had more punctures and Jim adding his skin to the large pile collecting on that sketchy left bend.
So ends the Magical and Untamed Cape Epic. An amazing experience and an incredible feat of organisation. The logistics behind the running of this event must be staggering. With over 900 racers and 300 staff, we were provided with a tent each! There were enormous marquees hosting the dining tent (complete with tables with tablecloths and table centres, I almost expected a dress code), the kitchens, race headquarters, media tent, race hospital, massages, and bag storage. Bike mechanics were on call day and night. Thought had even gone into the provision of the water, all from the same source to prevent stomach upsets, (the Coca-Cola plant in Cape Town), and tankered in to us daily. The showers, 30 perched on the back of a juggernaut, were provided by Absolute Ablutions and were always hot, a first in our multi-stage experience. Search and rescue vehicles, paramedics on quad bikes and motorcycles and 3 water points / 1 medic tent on the course per day. All this was put up one day, taken down, transported to the finish and re-erected the next, all before the pros got there, which was less than 4 hours after the start on some days! That’s a lot of manpower to call upon. All in all - an excellent race if not quite what I was expecting, not as technical but made up for in sheer distance. For the masochist in me, I didn’t feel like I suffered enough! No 12-hour days, our longest was 8 and that was due to a mechanical not the terrain; I slept too well, we were all provided with 6” foam mattresses! And ate too well, Thomas & Dalida cooked vegan meals even managing to procure tofu which is a feat in itself in London let alone a field in the outback of the southern capeJ Big Hi5’s go to the children, who were carrying bags we could barely lift to our tents, washing our bikes and entertaining us in the evenings with singing, dancing and playing in brass bands. The only downside – no finishers’ presentation of shirts and medals which just left it feeling a bit incomplete. But definitely recommended, especially for roadies wanting to try their hand at a multi-stage mtb event or first-timers before tackling the more technically challenging TransAlps / Rockies or Ruta because despite the ‘big-up’ this race could have been done on a cross-bike JG
24 hours of Moab
The Sunday Riders and fellow team mates - Skid Marks have entered teams in the 24 Hours of Moab race, so it's off to the US of A....
Monday 11th October
Get taxi to Heathrow Terminal 4 for our direct flight BA 218 to Denver, Colorado. There is a slight delay as mechanics replace one of the undercarriage panels then we’re off. We arrive at 19:00 and await the interminable immigration procedures, to our amazement it is both quick and painless, our fingerprints are taken and our irises photographed and we’re straight through to be re-united with our luggage, none of which has been scattered across the Atlantic, Good job, mechanics!
Raymond and I catch the courtesy bus to pick up our rental car at Hertz. Greg, Julie and Paul get a shuttle bus to the hotel. After 20 minutes Raymond and I are still trying to work out how to open the boot, Rod appears having collected his car from the neighbouring Budget, we have similar models and he helps us load up. Then it’s the scary bit – my first drive for almost 10years – in an automatic, on the wrong side of the road and in the dark!! I follow Rod and despite a minor detour down a huge toll road we find both our La Quinta hotel and the others. The receptionist tells us breakfast starts at 4.00am and would we like a wake-up call, Rod gives her a ‘don’t even think about it’ look. But…..
Tuesday 12th October
...it’s 3.10am and we are all wide awake! We while away the minutes until 4.00am and all head down to breakfast, then unpack and re assemble our bikes. The others manage to sleep in until 6.00 and are picking up their rental RV at 8.00am. We are to meet Jim in Boulder at the youth hostel at noon. With Raymond at the wheel, we again tail Rod through downtown Denver and out into suburbia to the mountains of Boulder. The town is bigger than expected but looks pretty under cloudless blue skies and autumnal shades, we park opposite a diner in which we have our second breakfast and visit a retro roadie bike shop called Vecchio’s.
We book in at the Best Western, which has the Raymondesque suffix ‘Golden Buff’, and get on our bikes to find Jim. He is sitting on a porch outside the hostel with his brand new, baby blue Santa Cruz waiting for the RV. We spotted an mtb shop and a health food supermarket down the road so go off to investigate. At the bike shop we meet Burt from Washington DC who is looking for company for a ride, we agree to meet him back here at 1.00pm, then we stock up on provisions for the trip. The supermarket holds the biggest display of vegan ice creams I’ve ever seen, I have a magnum! We arrange with Jim to all meet up at our hotel at 6pm.
Back at the hotel we change into proper cycling stuff and collect Burt (Jim isn’t there so we assume the RV has arrived) and head off into the Boulder trails as described by the bike shop guy. We follow the riverside path towards the hills, it rises in a gentle gradient but we are already aware of the effects of altitude and any exertion leaves us panting hard! We join a road and exit right, before a tunnel onto a steep, rocky gully, Burt rides, we walk. It climbs through pine forest to a meadow and water pumping station. Here, two ‘Lunachicks’ out on a training ride overtake us. The trail is good, swoopy singletrack but all off camber – I tell myself it’s all good practise. As we stop to repair Rod’s puncture we are unfortunately lapped by the cheerily chatting, not even out-of-breath Lunachicks. The loop leads back to the gully, which I descend well, only bailing out at two points at which Rod has crashed in front of me. The second is caught on camera by Raymond and is appropriately next to the ‘Caution - Danger’ sign. Although Rod escapes with cuts and bruises his back wheel is trashed, Burt happens to own a bike shop, has a spoke-key and knows how to use it, enough to true the wheel enough for Rod to get back. At the bike shop we thank the guy for the route and reward him with business as Rod buys a new wheel. Burt says he’ll try to catch up with us in Moab later in the week. As we cycle back to the hotel there has been an accident and the traffic has come to a standstill. We cycle between the lanes to reach the front where a policeman is directing the diversion. He gives us an appalled look and says ‘Hey! You guys know better than that!’ and we get slapped wrists for riding in such a manner – we aren’t in London now!
Wednesday 13th October
Wake to grey skies, it has rained heavily during the night and in the hills this has fallen as snow. On the TV a weatherman is standing in 2ft of snow next to a tunnel informing motorists that commercial vehicles need to use snow chains. I think they’ve had it bad somewhere and only after consulting the map do I realise that it’s the route we have to travel to Fruita! Well, things should have melted a bit by the time we reach it – hopefully. Raymond holds the car keys today and we tail Rod out of Boulder and aim for Interstate 70. We lose Rod at an intersection but once on the I70 it’s follow ours noses to Fruita. The Colorado Rockies soon loom into view and the ground is covered with a fine dusting of snow, which looks very picturesque.
As we gain altitude the snowfall thickens, visibility drops and road conditions deteriorate rapidly. Snow blowers and ploughs are out in force but icy patches catch at our wheels every now and then, Raymond drives with aplomb, applying his cycling motto that ice is rideable as long as you don’t try to steer or brake. Snow chains for commercial vehicles are still in force, every so often there are signs for runaway vehicle ramps and ahead of them we see steep snow pistes and, scarily, they all have recent tyre tracks running all the way to the top:-o (how do they get back down again?!). Once over the highest pass, Vail At 10, 603ft, the conditions improve quickly, blue skies abound and the sun is glorious. I take over the wheel, and as I continue westwards a car overtakes me, Raymond waves at the driver – it’s Rod! He says that Greg has been in touch, they had travelled on to Fruita last night when they should have been meeting us! We are to meet them at Loma, Exit 15. Raymond drives the last hour to the village where we stock up on water and energy bars for the ride. The directions were to go through Loma but the road goes miles across the plains towards the hills. I check the map and find we’re heading in the wrong direction, we flash Steve to turn around, head back into Loma and out to the trailhead that is literally just yards out of town! Quickly change in cycling stuff and we’re off – Greg, Julie, Paul and Jim are there in the RV, Keith has arrived as has Chipps and his friend Chris ‘the wrench wench’. It appears Jim forgot about the rendezvouz!
The ride follows part of the Kokopelli trail, which eventually ends in Moab, we do a small loop to begin with. The riding is rock and sand. Keith tells us to beware of ‘goatheads’; small seeds that lie in undisturbed sand which explode into lots of sharp thorns when touched. Riding over one of these leaves so many undetectable spikes in the tyre that cause punctures and it’s easier to buy a new tyre than try to remove them. So, ‘keep to the trail’. Raymond promptly punctures but it’s a faulty valve that’s the culprit. It’s getting hot now we’re riding and the going is hard, I think we’re all feeling a bit like we’ve never ridden a bike before, whether that’s altitude or jet-lag I don’t know but I don’t like it! The others are fairing a little better having ridden some other Fruita trails this morning, Julie and Jim are sporting new cuts, I soon gouge a chainmark into the back of my calf which annoys me, but I am descending well, even if my climbing has deserted me! We only ride 8 miles but it feels like 30.
We’d planned to spend the night in Fruita but the RV is heading on to Moab, we decide to continue the journey which should take a couple of hours and leave the Fruita trails for the return trip. We arrive as the sun is setting and the red rocks that surround us in all directions glow crimson. We bag an extra night in the hotel that Rod had pre-booked for this weekend, it turns out to be a self-contained three bed roomed bungalow and it recommends a pizza house called Isabella’s with free wifi internet connection, Raymond is ecstatic!
Thursday 14th October
Today we are being introduced to the Moab riding scene. Our first stop is the legendary ‘slick rock’. The RV has camped close to the trailhead, we ride up to meet them, pay $2 entrance fee and head for the practice loop that is about 3miles long, the main trail is longer but we don’t particularly want to ride the whole day. The slick rock is deep red and feels like fine grain sand paper, (hence my investment in arm protectors), tyres stick to it like glue making it possible to ride very steep ups and downs but it wears them very quickly.
The practice loop consists of scary undulations over the rocks, there are intermittent white lines for you to follow and some near vertical ups and downs, I let the boys go first and follow warily. I needn’t have worried you can step on the pedals as hard as you like and there is no spin from the tyres and I get up things that look impossible! The only thing that disturbs me is the absolutely awful squeal from my back brake, it echoes around the canyon and everyone knows when I’m slowing down. The only bits I just can’t get my head or bike around are the sudden changes in angles. Going from flat gradually to vertical is fine but when the angles are nearly 90’ I chicken out, commitment is everything and the boys manage extremely well. The practice loop lends onto the main trail and Paul, Jim, Greg and Julie head on while me Raymond, Steve and Rod turn back, on the way past the RV we see Julie who didn’t like the practice bit and hated the main trail which was all off camber for her and got a lot steeper. After lunch we load the bikes into the cars and travel south of the town some 12miles to the race site. A rough road leads off the main highway for a mile or so and at the entrance is a kiosk with people collecting camping fees $10 per person per night. They ask for $60! We explain that we’re just riding the course and won’t be staying; they say we have to pay regardless but eventually concede. The RV has arrived and the others will be camping here until the race is over. We all set off on a recce of the course. Keith has been riding this course almost everyday in the last couple of weeks and knows it intimately, he forewarns us of obstacles and advises us as to how to approach them. The start is sandy single track, the sand is extremely fine and requires you to take all the weight off the front wheel if you are to get through it, I don’t. Keith says, ‘think: all your weight is in your ass’. The track is punctuated by a couple of bombholes filled with deep soft sand; I don’t do these either. We then turn off onto the rocks, these are the size of cars and have deep fissures that stop all momentum and are separated by yet more intractionable sand. The climb is long and I soon run out of concentration and have no go in my legs, I walk to meet the rest at the top. There is nice flat double track on the plateau at the top but even this has sections of squirmy sand, the descent is a sandy helter-skelter with enormous berms as steep as track cycling! The next part of the course is quite technical, lots of smaller boulders and shelves that can be ridden with balls, Keith and the boys work out the best lines down these atrocities, I walk both down and back up the other sides. Keith crashes a couple of times trying out new lines, he’s unstoppable! I am cycling appallingly! And I am in a very bad mood, I try to blame my poor performance on jet lag, altitude, any excuse, but I’m just frustrated because I can do better but it isn’t happening. The last 6 miles is relatively flat, fast double track around a huge rock formation called ‘Prostitute Butte’, there’s another steep downhill with a nasty ledge at the top then undulating until the final crawl up to the plateau and it’s a blast all the way back to the start. It takes almost 2 hours for us to complete this lap! The race is going to be hard work. I think we are all a bit shell shocked at how technical the course is and now face an unsettled night. Friday 15th October
No hard riding today. We decide to do some sightseeing instead, Rod has been here before and suggests the Arches National Park where we can cycle around the viewpoints before watching the sunset behind one of the most spectacular arches known as Delicate Arch. We pack and drive out of town, 2miles later and we are at the entrance!! We cycle up a short climb, which takes us onto an undulating plateau with views of various rock formations and the La Sal mountain range. We drop down off the plateau and slowly climb back out to reach the North and South Arches, Turret Arch and Multiple Arch. We stop here to walk through the arches, which are immense. It is getting very hot and there is little shade, Raymond sits under a bush until we return. I’m getting a bit sun fazed too, Rod wants to stay here ‘til sundown but Raymond and I have had enough; as the saying goes (to paraphrase Mr G. Smith) ‘once you’ve seen one arch…’. We cycle back to the car which includes a 6km freewheel down off the plateau and find a freshly squashed snake on the road. Raymond picks it up and puts it under a bush. It’s not long before Rod and Steve also return. The afternoon is spent browsing the shops and visiting the laundrette. Raymond discovers, reading his e-mails, that our race packages have to be collected by 8pm, we text the others at race HQ to sign us in. We get a frantic call from Paul at 7.50pm, he has signed for his team Skid Marks but needs another signature for the Sunday Riders. Fortunately the sign in is at the town hall in Moab and not actually at the race site, Rod sprints off, mid mouthful, and returns with a goody bag containing our race numbers, timing tags, t-shirt and glo-in-the-dark Frisbees.
Saturday 16th & Sunday 17th October
Race day! We are awake quite early charged with what? Excitement? Anticipation? Dread? We pack enough stuff to last us the weekend and drive the 12miles out of town to Behind The Rocks where the race is being held. This time we pay our camping/entrance fee and soon locate the others’ RV, together with Keith’s two teams and the distinctive Bontrager gazebo. The desert has bloomed into a sprawling village of tents and RV’s. Keith has brought an endless supply of experimental tyres that we can test-ride for him. Our team of Sunday Riders is complete but Skid Marks are still a man down, Paul has somehow managed to rope Chipps Chippendale – UK bike journo and SSMM and SITS course designer - into taking part, this also gives us some leverage in getting demo lights loaned to us courtesy of NiteRider. Before I’ve even emerged from the car, Keith has stuck his head through the window and is telling me race tactics, having been worried at my abysmal performance on the practice lap he has put some thought into how I can get the most from my laps! He is such a sweetie!
The pre-race briefing starts at 10am, it is already blisteringly hot in the sun, the organiser should get an award for speaking for 28hours non-stop, he goes through the race rules, generally the same as for British 24hour races but help is allowed on course but only from another registered rider from your team who can ride out to find you or even accompany you on a lap. The baton exchange is slightly different too, as the rider completes their lap they hand the baton to an organiser then swipe their transponder. The organiser then passes the baton to the next rider who swipes their card on the way out. It seems very labour intensive but works well and has a plus point in that the organiser knows the name of who has just come in / gone out and gives you personal encouragement.
Julie and Paul are doing the run and first laps for Sunday Riders and Skid Marks respectively. The run is quite short, from the tent, across scrubland around a bush and back. The bikes are parked in the corral. We shout and cheer as they all line up and on the stroke of noon the gun goes and people sprint away. It now becomes apparent why so many people lined up were wearing facemasks, there is a veritable dust storm kicked up by hundreds of feet and it is difficult to discern people just a few feet away! In fact Paul said that when he got to the bush there were people running in all directions because they just couldn’t see their way back. Then they start their laps, we anticipate 1hour45mins under race conditions. The adrenalin has kicked in and Paul is back in 1hour 25, and Julie in 1hour 35 – way to go guys!! Next out are Jim and Raymond, whose lap times are separated by only 4 seconds 1hr23:30/4 and then it’s my turn. I feel surprisingly calm yet aggressive which is quite unusual for me, Raymond comes in I take the baton, swipe out and pedal out onto the course. It is so much more rideable than last time! I slither through the sandy singletrack which I completely messed up in practice and once onto the rocky climb, most of which I previously walked, I find I am overtaking people by the handful. The price for this is total hyperventilation and I sound like a steam train! I get my breath back powering along the flat section at the top and fly down the helter skelter descent. Any bits I really don’t feel confident with – a couple of nasty rocky drop-offs and one cliff face climb, I quickly dismount and run over. It actually feels very good to push myself this hard, I haven’t felt like this since the last day of La Ruta and having done no racing this year I was worried that I was getting so apathetic that I would never feel that way again. I get back to the tent to complete my lap in 1hour28.33!! I’m shocked and pleased! Steve is out next followed by Greg, who didn’t think he’d get a daylight lap in but we’re way up on our expected schedule. My next lap starts at just gone 11pm, it is pitch black, there is no ambient light from surrounding urbanisations. The Niterider lights are excellent; I have one on my bars and one on my helmet. I don’t find the night riding as ‘easy’ as I do at home, where I get very nervous but it turns out to be fine, the shadowed rocks make me stall repeatedly and although I go fast on the flatter bits I am still going a lot slower. At the 11mile mark I pick up a guy from Aspen whose lights have gone and we cycle back at a steady pace together. In the last mile I pick up another two lightless souls and look like a mother hen bringing in her brood. They thank me; I say if I can’t be fast, I can at least be useful :-)
The other strange thing is that the rocks hold the heat of day and night laps are warm, then as day breaks and you expect temperatures to rise, it plummets! From 6-9am it’s freezing then the sun bursts over the mountains and the radiation levels soar. Riders come and go, my last lap starts about 8.30 and Steve does the last leg having to lurk a little to miss the noon deadline. Sunday Riders completed 14 laps. As mid-day passes there are flashes of fork lightning over Prostitute Butte followed by low rumbles of thunder. Little did we know that Rod, completing Skid Marks' 15th lap, was there, squirming in the sand, leading the forks a merry dance as he dodged the stormJ Keith's team came third in their category. He stays for the award presentation, we cruise back into Moab, elation having superceded dread and already planning how to improve for next year. We all meet up for a celebratory meal and have a well deserved early night.
Monday 18th October
We sleep like a log and wake quite late. Rod and Steve have planned to go sightseeing at the Canyonlands National Park, we decide to give this a miss, ‘once you’ve seen one view….' We hit the shops for presents and bump into Chipps, Chris and friends. He said he really enjoyed the race and wasn’t feeling too bad – he obviously didn’t try hard enough! He and Chris suggested riding the Amasa trail as a recovery ride and suggests going to the Chile Pepper bike shop (also recommended by Jim at Vecchio’s in Boulder) for internet access. The shop does very good coffee, Raymond buys a slinky red top and we watch some guys ride the steep slick rock outside the shop, then it’s back for another sleep. Once awake all desire for a ride has disappeared so we decide to go for a walk instead. Earlier, in town, we’d seen a creekside pathway, so we decide to explore. A meander through suburban Moab takes us past a thrift shop (US version of second hand shop) and then we spot the trail. This winds it’s way back towards the centre of town, a wood chip track through yellow and green trees makes a welcome change from endless red rock. The trees have weird bark that looks like it has just survived a forest fire. The track surfaces at the hardware store, which Raymond investigates with relish. It’s back to Isabella’s for supper, we walk through the door to be confronted with the only other customers – Paul and Jim! Our number is soon swelled by the arrival of Julie and Greg. Greg has rested today, Julie had intended to ride out to the Arches but missed the turning and travelled the Castle Valley road for a 30mile round trip. We plan to meet up at 9.00am in the morning to ride Porcupine Rim. Steve and Rod think they may try to visit Bryce canyon, even though it is a long drive in the wrong direction, being so inspired by today scenic views. Jim has an early start in the morning, he is catching the 7.30 am bus back to Denver on the start of a long trip back to Aberdeen.
Tuesday 19th October
Today we are riding the legendary Porcupine Rim. Rod and Steve have decided to ride too but drive to the trailhead. We meet the others and cycle the 10.5miles to the start, it takes a good hour to get there. We find Rod’s car with a message written on the side in the dust – they’ve already set off. We sign the trail register and begin the notorious track. After the trials of the race the track seems relatively tame and we manage it without many problems. In fact we are all riding extremely well. At the top of the climb is a magnificent viewpoint over Castle Valley with steep, vertiginous drops made even more perilous by a strong wind blowing into the void. Raymond cheats death by standing, bike aloft, on a rocky outcrop; we settle for just sitting close to the edge for photos. The descent is fast and furious over rock-strewn trails, which we fly over with ease. The track then contours the hill above the river, all the wrong camber for me but I am feeling confident and riding well, surprising myself at how well I do some bits of it! At the end it drops to the road back into Moab, Greg foolishly tries to go for the town sign, Raymond easily out sprints him. We retrieve the car and at lunch we are joined by Keith, there is no sign of Steve and Rod. Raymond and I were planning on going to Fruita this evening but Paul now needs a lift to Denver in order to catch a connecting flight to Seattle so we decide it would be easier stay with them and take up their offer of a night camping at Dead Horse Point. We drive out to the National Park and the RV camping ground, at the entrance of which we catch sight of a leaping deer. The ranger’s office is closed so we go straight through and find a spot to hook up. The only bugbear is that the fires are solely charcoal, wood fires are not allowed and we have nothing but copious amounts of wood. We start the fire anyway and no sooner is it well alight than the ranger appears, we work out how much it is to stay the night and he chastises us for our use of wood. We plead ignorance by assuming the sign meant no wood gathered from the park and he kindly turns a blind eye telling us that we can burn what’s already alight but no more! Julie cooks - superbly as usual. Wednesday 20th October
Slept quite well although it sounded quite windy in the night. Keith has arrived and he, Greg and Julie decide to ride to the view point of Dead Horse Point before the crowds start appearing. On their return Keith gets to grips with breakfast. He is preparing hearty pancakes for us, vegan and regular versions, over the open fire. Raymond is impressed and is determined to try his own at home some time. Whilst the others are packing Raymond and I take the short bike ride to the viewpoint, which is quite spectacular, a huge gorge/canyon with the Colorado River winding it’s way through the floor. On the way back we see some more wild deer. Today, Julie and Keith are planning a hike to see some petroglyphs of childbirth. We decide to head out to Fruita accompanied by Paul and Greg in the RV. Once there we browse the local bike shop, here there are some black glittery arm warmers that we think would suit Paul, Raymond tells the shop assistant the he dresses like the Queen of England! We have coffee in a shop with a ceiling like the National Gallery all bronzed and ornate (and selling vegan cookies) then decide to rest today and ride tomorrow. We find a RV park and start a fire, Paul and I prepare food but realise that we have nothing to cook it in as Julie has the camping stuff. Raymond and I go to the thrift shop and pick up a wok (in which is a stand that Raymond discards) and a frying pan for a dollar each. The wok is a great success but without the stand needs to be supported by rocks in order to balance. Later on we walk to the supermarket then sing around the campfire and settle down for the night. It rains hard throughout the night.
Thursday 21st October
Wake to dull and grey skies. Raymond lights a fire and mixes up some chocolate pancake batter, with raisins and cornflakes, to cook for breakfast. The pan we bought is not the best for the job but the pancakes with a drizzle of maple syrup are very edible. We drive out to the trailhead for our last ride. We do the infamous Joe’s Ridge; scary in places due to exposed nature of trail but apart from stalling on a rather vertiginous bit I ride it all and feel pleased. I also feel this marks the end of my holiday so let the boys go off to play whilst I make my way back to the car. Julie and Keith have come to do a last trail ride too. The boys arrive back an hour later, very bubbly and excited after some frantic trail blazing. Julie and Keith go off riding, I drive us back to book in at La Quinta for a last night of home comforts, hot showers, soft beds and complimentary breakfast. Rod has e-mailed, he and Steve have gone to Boulder for some more high altitude trail training. Hopefully we’ll meet up at the airport tomorrow. Paul comes over to book his flight and I, after a much needed shower, pack away my trusted steed.
Friday 22nd October
I sleep well until the alarm goes off at 5.00am! Why?? Paul shocks us by arriving early!! We’re almost ready, we pack everything into the car and squeeze Paul and his bike into the back seat and set off in a fine drizzle. The weather is meant to get worse as we move east, so we have left extra time for the journey. As it turns out the rain comes in fits and starts and soon peters out altogether. I drive to Vail, stopping only for an agitated Paul to have a pee. Weather warnings suggest icy conditions over the pass so we stop for Raymond to take over. It is bloody cold, the temperature gauge reads 37’F and there is a fine snow falling. The pass, however, is clear. We get to the outskirts of Denver and the road multiplies into five/six lanes and the traffic builds. Paul needs to collect his bike bag from the RV rental place on an industrial estate. We manage to guide a brave Raymond through the bedlam and back out again to the relative quiet of Denver airport. We miss the gas station and ask the rental return guy whether we need wash our filthy car whilst we’re getting fuel, he laughs and says only if we were renting it straight back out againJ. The courtesy bus drops us at our terminal and takes Paul on to another for his flight. We haven’t been there long before Rod and Steve appear and we can check in. The bikes are scanned then we join a long queue to go through security and have our fingerprints and iris photos rechecked. They verify that we are the same people they let in, they do not however, realise our transformations from Slickrock virgins to international 24hour racers. JG
Monday 11th October
Get taxi to Heathrow Terminal 4 for our direct flight BA 218 to Denver, Colorado. There is a slight delay as mechanics replace one of the undercarriage panels then we’re off. We arrive at 19:00 and await the interminable immigration procedures, to our amazement it is both quick and painless, our fingerprints are taken and our irises photographed and we’re straight through to be re-united with our luggage, none of which has been scattered across the Atlantic, Good job, mechanics!
Raymond and I catch the courtesy bus to pick up our rental car at Hertz. Greg, Julie and Paul get a shuttle bus to the hotel. After 20 minutes Raymond and I are still trying to work out how to open the boot, Rod appears having collected his car from the neighbouring Budget, we have similar models and he helps us load up. Then it’s the scary bit – my first drive for almost 10years – in an automatic, on the wrong side of the road and in the dark!! I follow Rod and despite a minor detour down a huge toll road we find both our La Quinta hotel and the others. The receptionist tells us breakfast starts at 4.00am and would we like a wake-up call, Rod gives her a ‘don’t even think about it’ look. But…..
Tuesday 12th October
...it’s 3.10am and we are all wide awake! We while away the minutes until 4.00am and all head down to breakfast, then unpack and re assemble our bikes. The others manage to sleep in until 6.00 and are picking up their rental RV at 8.00am. We are to meet Jim in Boulder at the youth hostel at noon. With Raymond at the wheel, we again tail Rod through downtown Denver and out into suburbia to the mountains of Boulder. The town is bigger than expected but looks pretty under cloudless blue skies and autumnal shades, we park opposite a diner in which we have our second breakfast and visit a retro roadie bike shop called Vecchio’s.
We book in at the Best Western, which has the Raymondesque suffix ‘Golden Buff’, and get on our bikes to find Jim. He is sitting on a porch outside the hostel with his brand new, baby blue Santa Cruz waiting for the RV. We spotted an mtb shop and a health food supermarket down the road so go off to investigate. At the bike shop we meet Burt from Washington DC who is looking for company for a ride, we agree to meet him back here at 1.00pm, then we stock up on provisions for the trip. The supermarket holds the biggest display of vegan ice creams I’ve ever seen, I have a magnum! We arrange with Jim to all meet up at our hotel at 6pm.
Back at the hotel we change into proper cycling stuff and collect Burt (Jim isn’t there so we assume the RV has arrived) and head off into the Boulder trails as described by the bike shop guy. We follow the riverside path towards the hills, it rises in a gentle gradient but we are already aware of the effects of altitude and any exertion leaves us panting hard! We join a road and exit right, before a tunnel onto a steep, rocky gully, Burt rides, we walk. It climbs through pine forest to a meadow and water pumping station. Here, two ‘Lunachicks’ out on a training ride overtake us. The trail is good, swoopy singletrack but all off camber – I tell myself it’s all good practise. As we stop to repair Rod’s puncture we are unfortunately lapped by the cheerily chatting, not even out-of-breath Lunachicks. The loop leads back to the gully, which I descend well, only bailing out at two points at which Rod has crashed in front of me. The second is caught on camera by Raymond and is appropriately next to the ‘Caution - Danger’ sign. Although Rod escapes with cuts and bruises his back wheel is trashed, Burt happens to own a bike shop, has a spoke-key and knows how to use it, enough to true the wheel enough for Rod to get back. At the bike shop we thank the guy for the route and reward him with business as Rod buys a new wheel. Burt says he’ll try to catch up with us in Moab later in the week. As we cycle back to the hotel there has been an accident and the traffic has come to a standstill. We cycle between the lanes to reach the front where a policeman is directing the diversion. He gives us an appalled look and says ‘Hey! You guys know better than that!’ and we get slapped wrists for riding in such a manner – we aren’t in London now!
Wednesday 13th October
Wake to grey skies, it has rained heavily during the night and in the hills this has fallen as snow. On the TV a weatherman is standing in 2ft of snow next to a tunnel informing motorists that commercial vehicles need to use snow chains. I think they’ve had it bad somewhere and only after consulting the map do I realise that it’s the route we have to travel to Fruita! Well, things should have melted a bit by the time we reach it – hopefully. Raymond holds the car keys today and we tail Rod out of Boulder and aim for Interstate 70. We lose Rod at an intersection but once on the I70 it’s follow ours noses to Fruita. The Colorado Rockies soon loom into view and the ground is covered with a fine dusting of snow, which looks very picturesque.
As we gain altitude the snowfall thickens, visibility drops and road conditions deteriorate rapidly. Snow blowers and ploughs are out in force but icy patches catch at our wheels every now and then, Raymond drives with aplomb, applying his cycling motto that ice is rideable as long as you don’t try to steer or brake. Snow chains for commercial vehicles are still in force, every so often there are signs for runaway vehicle ramps and ahead of them we see steep snow pistes and, scarily, they all have recent tyre tracks running all the way to the top:-o (how do they get back down again?!). Once over the highest pass, Vail At 10, 603ft, the conditions improve quickly, blue skies abound and the sun is glorious. I take over the wheel, and as I continue westwards a car overtakes me, Raymond waves at the driver – it’s Rod! He says that Greg has been in touch, they had travelled on to Fruita last night when they should have been meeting us! We are to meet them at Loma, Exit 15. Raymond drives the last hour to the village where we stock up on water and energy bars for the ride. The directions were to go through Loma but the road goes miles across the plains towards the hills. I check the map and find we’re heading in the wrong direction, we flash Steve to turn around, head back into Loma and out to the trailhead that is literally just yards out of town! Quickly change in cycling stuff and we’re off – Greg, Julie, Paul and Jim are there in the RV, Keith has arrived as has Chipps and his friend Chris ‘the wrench wench’. It appears Jim forgot about the rendezvouz!
The ride follows part of the Kokopelli trail, which eventually ends in Moab, we do a small loop to begin with. The riding is rock and sand. Keith tells us to beware of ‘goatheads’; small seeds that lie in undisturbed sand which explode into lots of sharp thorns when touched. Riding over one of these leaves so many undetectable spikes in the tyre that cause punctures and it’s easier to buy a new tyre than try to remove them. So, ‘keep to the trail’. Raymond promptly punctures but it’s a faulty valve that’s the culprit. It’s getting hot now we’re riding and the going is hard, I think we’re all feeling a bit like we’ve never ridden a bike before, whether that’s altitude or jet-lag I don’t know but I don’t like it! The others are fairing a little better having ridden some other Fruita trails this morning, Julie and Jim are sporting new cuts, I soon gouge a chainmark into the back of my calf which annoys me, but I am descending well, even if my climbing has deserted me! We only ride 8 miles but it feels like 30.
We’d planned to spend the night in Fruita but the RV is heading on to Moab, we decide to continue the journey which should take a couple of hours and leave the Fruita trails for the return trip. We arrive as the sun is setting and the red rocks that surround us in all directions glow crimson. We bag an extra night in the hotel that Rod had pre-booked for this weekend, it turns out to be a self-contained three bed roomed bungalow and it recommends a pizza house called Isabella’s with free wifi internet connection, Raymond is ecstatic!
Thursday 14th October
Today we are being introduced to the Moab riding scene. Our first stop is the legendary ‘slick rock’. The RV has camped close to the trailhead, we ride up to meet them, pay $2 entrance fee and head for the practice loop that is about 3miles long, the main trail is longer but we don’t particularly want to ride the whole day. The slick rock is deep red and feels like fine grain sand paper, (hence my investment in arm protectors), tyres stick to it like glue making it possible to ride very steep ups and downs but it wears them very quickly.
The practice loop consists of scary undulations over the rocks, there are intermittent white lines for you to follow and some near vertical ups and downs, I let the boys go first and follow warily. I needn’t have worried you can step on the pedals as hard as you like and there is no spin from the tyres and I get up things that look impossible! The only thing that disturbs me is the absolutely awful squeal from my back brake, it echoes around the canyon and everyone knows when I’m slowing down. The only bits I just can’t get my head or bike around are the sudden changes in angles. Going from flat gradually to vertical is fine but when the angles are nearly 90’ I chicken out, commitment is everything and the boys manage extremely well. The practice loop lends onto the main trail and Paul, Jim, Greg and Julie head on while me Raymond, Steve and Rod turn back, on the way past the RV we see Julie who didn’t like the practice bit and hated the main trail which was all off camber for her and got a lot steeper. After lunch we load the bikes into the cars and travel south of the town some 12miles to the race site. A rough road leads off the main highway for a mile or so and at the entrance is a kiosk with people collecting camping fees $10 per person per night. They ask for $60! We explain that we’re just riding the course and won’t be staying; they say we have to pay regardless but eventually concede. The RV has arrived and the others will be camping here until the race is over. We all set off on a recce of the course. Keith has been riding this course almost everyday in the last couple of weeks and knows it intimately, he forewarns us of obstacles and advises us as to how to approach them. The start is sandy single track, the sand is extremely fine and requires you to take all the weight off the front wheel if you are to get through it, I don’t. Keith says, ‘think: all your weight is in your ass’. The track is punctuated by a couple of bombholes filled with deep soft sand; I don’t do these either. We then turn off onto the rocks, these are the size of cars and have deep fissures that stop all momentum and are separated by yet more intractionable sand. The climb is long and I soon run out of concentration and have no go in my legs, I walk to meet the rest at the top. There is nice flat double track on the plateau at the top but even this has sections of squirmy sand, the descent is a sandy helter-skelter with enormous berms as steep as track cycling! The next part of the course is quite technical, lots of smaller boulders and shelves that can be ridden with balls, Keith and the boys work out the best lines down these atrocities, I walk both down and back up the other sides. Keith crashes a couple of times trying out new lines, he’s unstoppable! I am cycling appallingly! And I am in a very bad mood, I try to blame my poor performance on jet lag, altitude, any excuse, but I’m just frustrated because I can do better but it isn’t happening. The last 6 miles is relatively flat, fast double track around a huge rock formation called ‘Prostitute Butte’, there’s another steep downhill with a nasty ledge at the top then undulating until the final crawl up to the plateau and it’s a blast all the way back to the start. It takes almost 2 hours for us to complete this lap! The race is going to be hard work. I think we are all a bit shell shocked at how technical the course is and now face an unsettled night. Friday 15th October
No hard riding today. We decide to do some sightseeing instead, Rod has been here before and suggests the Arches National Park where we can cycle around the viewpoints before watching the sunset behind one of the most spectacular arches known as Delicate Arch. We pack and drive out of town, 2miles later and we are at the entrance!! We cycle up a short climb, which takes us onto an undulating plateau with views of various rock formations and the La Sal mountain range. We drop down off the plateau and slowly climb back out to reach the North and South Arches, Turret Arch and Multiple Arch. We stop here to walk through the arches, which are immense. It is getting very hot and there is little shade, Raymond sits under a bush until we return. I’m getting a bit sun fazed too, Rod wants to stay here ‘til sundown but Raymond and I have had enough; as the saying goes (to paraphrase Mr G. Smith) ‘once you’ve seen one arch…’. We cycle back to the car which includes a 6km freewheel down off the plateau and find a freshly squashed snake on the road. Raymond picks it up and puts it under a bush. It’s not long before Rod and Steve also return. The afternoon is spent browsing the shops and visiting the laundrette. Raymond discovers, reading his e-mails, that our race packages have to be collected by 8pm, we text the others at race HQ to sign us in. We get a frantic call from Paul at 7.50pm, he has signed for his team Skid Marks but needs another signature for the Sunday Riders. Fortunately the sign in is at the town hall in Moab and not actually at the race site, Rod sprints off, mid mouthful, and returns with a goody bag containing our race numbers, timing tags, t-shirt and glo-in-the-dark Frisbees.
Saturday 16th & Sunday 17th October
Race day! We are awake quite early charged with what? Excitement? Anticipation? Dread? We pack enough stuff to last us the weekend and drive the 12miles out of town to Behind The Rocks where the race is being held. This time we pay our camping/entrance fee and soon locate the others’ RV, together with Keith’s two teams and the distinctive Bontrager gazebo. The desert has bloomed into a sprawling village of tents and RV’s. Keith has brought an endless supply of experimental tyres that we can test-ride for him. Our team of Sunday Riders is complete but Skid Marks are still a man down, Paul has somehow managed to rope Chipps Chippendale – UK bike journo and SSMM and SITS course designer - into taking part, this also gives us some leverage in getting demo lights loaned to us courtesy of NiteRider. Before I’ve even emerged from the car, Keith has stuck his head through the window and is telling me race tactics, having been worried at my abysmal performance on the practice lap he has put some thought into how I can get the most from my laps! He is such a sweetie!
The pre-race briefing starts at 10am, it is already blisteringly hot in the sun, the organiser should get an award for speaking for 28hours non-stop, he goes through the race rules, generally the same as for British 24hour races but help is allowed on course but only from another registered rider from your team who can ride out to find you or even accompany you on a lap. The baton exchange is slightly different too, as the rider completes their lap they hand the baton to an organiser then swipe their transponder. The organiser then passes the baton to the next rider who swipes their card on the way out. It seems very labour intensive but works well and has a plus point in that the organiser knows the name of who has just come in / gone out and gives you personal encouragement.
Julie and Paul are doing the run and first laps for Sunday Riders and Skid Marks respectively. The run is quite short, from the tent, across scrubland around a bush and back. The bikes are parked in the corral. We shout and cheer as they all line up and on the stroke of noon the gun goes and people sprint away. It now becomes apparent why so many people lined up were wearing facemasks, there is a veritable dust storm kicked up by hundreds of feet and it is difficult to discern people just a few feet away! In fact Paul said that when he got to the bush there were people running in all directions because they just couldn’t see their way back. Then they start their laps, we anticipate 1hour45mins under race conditions. The adrenalin has kicked in and Paul is back in 1hour 25, and Julie in 1hour 35 – way to go guys!! Next out are Jim and Raymond, whose lap times are separated by only 4 seconds 1hr23:30/4 and then it’s my turn. I feel surprisingly calm yet aggressive which is quite unusual for me, Raymond comes in I take the baton, swipe out and pedal out onto the course. It is so much more rideable than last time! I slither through the sandy singletrack which I completely messed up in practice and once onto the rocky climb, most of which I previously walked, I find I am overtaking people by the handful. The price for this is total hyperventilation and I sound like a steam train! I get my breath back powering along the flat section at the top and fly down the helter skelter descent. Any bits I really don’t feel confident with – a couple of nasty rocky drop-offs and one cliff face climb, I quickly dismount and run over. It actually feels very good to push myself this hard, I haven’t felt like this since the last day of La Ruta and having done no racing this year I was worried that I was getting so apathetic that I would never feel that way again. I get back to the tent to complete my lap in 1hour28.33!! I’m shocked and pleased! Steve is out next followed by Greg, who didn’t think he’d get a daylight lap in but we’re way up on our expected schedule. My next lap starts at just gone 11pm, it is pitch black, there is no ambient light from surrounding urbanisations. The Niterider lights are excellent; I have one on my bars and one on my helmet. I don’t find the night riding as ‘easy’ as I do at home, where I get very nervous but it turns out to be fine, the shadowed rocks make me stall repeatedly and although I go fast on the flatter bits I am still going a lot slower. At the 11mile mark I pick up a guy from Aspen whose lights have gone and we cycle back at a steady pace together. In the last mile I pick up another two lightless souls and look like a mother hen bringing in her brood. They thank me; I say if I can’t be fast, I can at least be useful :-)
The other strange thing is that the rocks hold the heat of day and night laps are warm, then as day breaks and you expect temperatures to rise, it plummets! From 6-9am it’s freezing then the sun bursts over the mountains and the radiation levels soar. Riders come and go, my last lap starts about 8.30 and Steve does the last leg having to lurk a little to miss the noon deadline. Sunday Riders completed 14 laps. As mid-day passes there are flashes of fork lightning over Prostitute Butte followed by low rumbles of thunder. Little did we know that Rod, completing Skid Marks' 15th lap, was there, squirming in the sand, leading the forks a merry dance as he dodged the stormJ Keith's team came third in their category. He stays for the award presentation, we cruise back into Moab, elation having superceded dread and already planning how to improve for next year. We all meet up for a celebratory meal and have a well deserved early night.
Monday 18th October
We sleep like a log and wake quite late. Rod and Steve have planned to go sightseeing at the Canyonlands National Park, we decide to give this a miss, ‘once you’ve seen one view….' We hit the shops for presents and bump into Chipps, Chris and friends. He said he really enjoyed the race and wasn’t feeling too bad – he obviously didn’t try hard enough! He and Chris suggested riding the Amasa trail as a recovery ride and suggests going to the Chile Pepper bike shop (also recommended by Jim at Vecchio’s in Boulder) for internet access. The shop does very good coffee, Raymond buys a slinky red top and we watch some guys ride the steep slick rock outside the shop, then it’s back for another sleep. Once awake all desire for a ride has disappeared so we decide to go for a walk instead. Earlier, in town, we’d seen a creekside pathway, so we decide to explore. A meander through suburban Moab takes us past a thrift shop (US version of second hand shop) and then we spot the trail. This winds it’s way back towards the centre of town, a wood chip track through yellow and green trees makes a welcome change from endless red rock. The trees have weird bark that looks like it has just survived a forest fire. The track surfaces at the hardware store, which Raymond investigates with relish. It’s back to Isabella’s for supper, we walk through the door to be confronted with the only other customers – Paul and Jim! Our number is soon swelled by the arrival of Julie and Greg. Greg has rested today, Julie had intended to ride out to the Arches but missed the turning and travelled the Castle Valley road for a 30mile round trip. We plan to meet up at 9.00am in the morning to ride Porcupine Rim. Steve and Rod think they may try to visit Bryce canyon, even though it is a long drive in the wrong direction, being so inspired by today scenic views. Jim has an early start in the morning, he is catching the 7.30 am bus back to Denver on the start of a long trip back to Aberdeen.
Tuesday 19th October
Today we are riding the legendary Porcupine Rim. Rod and Steve have decided to ride too but drive to the trailhead. We meet the others and cycle the 10.5miles to the start, it takes a good hour to get there. We find Rod’s car with a message written on the side in the dust – they’ve already set off. We sign the trail register and begin the notorious track. After the trials of the race the track seems relatively tame and we manage it without many problems. In fact we are all riding extremely well. At the top of the climb is a magnificent viewpoint over Castle Valley with steep, vertiginous drops made even more perilous by a strong wind blowing into the void. Raymond cheats death by standing, bike aloft, on a rocky outcrop; we settle for just sitting close to the edge for photos. The descent is fast and furious over rock-strewn trails, which we fly over with ease. The track then contours the hill above the river, all the wrong camber for me but I am feeling confident and riding well, surprising myself at how well I do some bits of it! At the end it drops to the road back into Moab, Greg foolishly tries to go for the town sign, Raymond easily out sprints him. We retrieve the car and at lunch we are joined by Keith, there is no sign of Steve and Rod. Raymond and I were planning on going to Fruita this evening but Paul now needs a lift to Denver in order to catch a connecting flight to Seattle so we decide it would be easier stay with them and take up their offer of a night camping at Dead Horse Point. We drive out to the National Park and the RV camping ground, at the entrance of which we catch sight of a leaping deer. The ranger’s office is closed so we go straight through and find a spot to hook up. The only bugbear is that the fires are solely charcoal, wood fires are not allowed and we have nothing but copious amounts of wood. We start the fire anyway and no sooner is it well alight than the ranger appears, we work out how much it is to stay the night and he chastises us for our use of wood. We plead ignorance by assuming the sign meant no wood gathered from the park and he kindly turns a blind eye telling us that we can burn what’s already alight but no more! Julie cooks - superbly as usual. Wednesday 20th October
Slept quite well although it sounded quite windy in the night. Keith has arrived and he, Greg and Julie decide to ride to the view point of Dead Horse Point before the crowds start appearing. On their return Keith gets to grips with breakfast. He is preparing hearty pancakes for us, vegan and regular versions, over the open fire. Raymond is impressed and is determined to try his own at home some time. Whilst the others are packing Raymond and I take the short bike ride to the viewpoint, which is quite spectacular, a huge gorge/canyon with the Colorado River winding it’s way through the floor. On the way back we see some more wild deer. Today, Julie and Keith are planning a hike to see some petroglyphs of childbirth. We decide to head out to Fruita accompanied by Paul and Greg in the RV. Once there we browse the local bike shop, here there are some black glittery arm warmers that we think would suit Paul, Raymond tells the shop assistant the he dresses like the Queen of England! We have coffee in a shop with a ceiling like the National Gallery all bronzed and ornate (and selling vegan cookies) then decide to rest today and ride tomorrow. We find a RV park and start a fire, Paul and I prepare food but realise that we have nothing to cook it in as Julie has the camping stuff. Raymond and I go to the thrift shop and pick up a wok (in which is a stand that Raymond discards) and a frying pan for a dollar each. The wok is a great success but without the stand needs to be supported by rocks in order to balance. Later on we walk to the supermarket then sing around the campfire and settle down for the night. It rains hard throughout the night.
Thursday 21st October
Wake to dull and grey skies. Raymond lights a fire and mixes up some chocolate pancake batter, with raisins and cornflakes, to cook for breakfast. The pan we bought is not the best for the job but the pancakes with a drizzle of maple syrup are very edible. We drive out to the trailhead for our last ride. We do the infamous Joe’s Ridge; scary in places due to exposed nature of trail but apart from stalling on a rather vertiginous bit I ride it all and feel pleased. I also feel this marks the end of my holiday so let the boys go off to play whilst I make my way back to the car. Julie and Keith have come to do a last trail ride too. The boys arrive back an hour later, very bubbly and excited after some frantic trail blazing. Julie and Keith go off riding, I drive us back to book in at La Quinta for a last night of home comforts, hot showers, soft beds and complimentary breakfast. Rod has e-mailed, he and Steve have gone to Boulder for some more high altitude trail training. Hopefully we’ll meet up at the airport tomorrow. Paul comes over to book his flight and I, after a much needed shower, pack away my trusted steed.
Friday 22nd October
I sleep well until the alarm goes off at 5.00am! Why?? Paul shocks us by arriving early!! We’re almost ready, we pack everything into the car and squeeze Paul and his bike into the back seat and set off in a fine drizzle. The weather is meant to get worse as we move east, so we have left extra time for the journey. As it turns out the rain comes in fits and starts and soon peters out altogether. I drive to Vail, stopping only for an agitated Paul to have a pee. Weather warnings suggest icy conditions over the pass so we stop for Raymond to take over. It is bloody cold, the temperature gauge reads 37’F and there is a fine snow falling. The pass, however, is clear. We get to the outskirts of Denver and the road multiplies into five/six lanes and the traffic builds. Paul needs to collect his bike bag from the RV rental place on an industrial estate. We manage to guide a brave Raymond through the bedlam and back out again to the relative quiet of Denver airport. We miss the gas station and ask the rental return guy whether we need wash our filthy car whilst we’re getting fuel, he laughs and says only if we were renting it straight back out againJ. The courtesy bus drops us at our terminal and takes Paul on to another for his flight. We haven’t been there long before Rod and Steve appear and we can check in. The bikes are scanned then we join a long queue to go through security and have our fingerprints and iris photos rechecked. They verify that we are the same people they let in, they do not however, realise our transformations from Slickrock virgins to international 24hour racers. JG
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