Kill me a son
On Tuesday we have time trial night. On every fourth Tuesday, we have
off-road time trial night. This Tuesday we had off-road time trial
night at Dalbeattie. Oh goodie, thought I, nice blast round the blue
route. But other people had other ideas; and by other people I mean,
specifically, William Montgomerie and his son Gareth. William and
Gareth have planned us a route. More interesting, they said, than the
blue route. I impute no viciousness to either of them - neither has a
mean bone in his body. They chose the route because they thought it
interesting. Who am I to doubt them? So they led the way, and we
cycled up the hill, up, and up, and up to the place from which they
have planned to start.
They then suggested a trial lap round the route, so we'd all know
where we were going.
Man, you must be putting me on!
The route started off on one of the new sections of singletrack that
were opened up for this year's Dalbeattie SXC course - also, of
course, planned by William and Gareth. And there, by the start of the
section, was the double down arrow sign which means 'warning! steep
descent'. We're going to time trial down this? [censored]! The kids, of
course, flowed down it. Ross and Ryan, both still at primary school;
Angus, just at high school; Keith, a little older. Riding down
smoothly and swiftly - gracefully even. I can't do that. I haven't got
that skill or that confidence. I could, just about, ride it. I fell
off, of course. I fell off on the trial lap, and I fell off in
different places each each successive lap. But each lap I fell off
only once, and the rest of it I rode.
And then, at the bottom, hard right onto fire road and belt along for
a couple of kilometres, and then hard right onto
What?
It's a deer track, no more, twisting up through the wood. This is 'old
school' mountain biking to the nth degree. And then, up into a stream
bed and across 20 metres of inclined granite slab, then deer track
again, climbing steeply, a bit of corduroy across a boggy bit, left
turn onto another deer track, still climbing, vicious right onto a bit
of the red route that's climbing so steeply that it's hard to keep the
front wheel down, and then fast, well built red route singletrack
twisting and writhing across the face of the hill, with the view
opening out below, and then with a final swoop down a rock chute and a
climb it's back up onto fire road, blasting past the top of the
Qualifier and the Slab, past the top of the Chicken Run, back around
to the start again.
You can do what you want, Abe, but...
William said "I thought we'd to three laps". Steve Warner, still
recovering from a hand broken in a bad fall at Kirroughtrie, decided
not. The rest of us were foolish enough to agree. The kids were away
first, one after another, smooth, fast, Ryan making a showy sliding
turn onto the descent section. And then it was me, and William was
counting down the seconds for me. Thirty. Twenty. Ten. Five. Three,
two, one.
Normally when you start a time trial you're accelerating madly on that
first blast of adrenaline. Not this time. Not me. Turn into the
section, back off the saddle, ease the bike down through the twisting,
uneven descent.
The thing is, I can't do the Qualifier. I can't do the Qualifier
because I think I don't have the skill, but I also (and perhaps this
more) can't do the Qualifier because I don't have the guts. It
intimidates me, and I don't feel the least bit foolish about that.
This wasn't anything like as intimidating as the Qualifier. But it was
much, much longer - getting on for a kilometre of it - and there was
mostly grass and scrub to fall into (which was just as well, because
one again I duly did). And in places it was easily as steep as the
Qualifier. But gradually I eased the bike down. As the section began
to ease up towards the bottom, Ian came past easily and
quickly. Bugger! I'd lost a whole minute on the first descent.
Down to the fire road, and accelerate away, trying to keep in touch with
Ian. But as the fire road started to climb and twist I lost him, and
then there was the sound of fast wheels behind. Bruce or Gareth? Bruce
is fast, and would have started two minutes behind me. But Gareth is
very fast, and started a minute behind him... it's Bruce. He shot
past up the climb, and then, just as I was about to turn off onto the
deer track, I heard wheels again. I stopped and let Gareth onto the
section ahead of me.
Up the climb (keeping my front wheel down at the turn this time), round
to the start, ease down the descent again. I knew I wasn't going to do
a good time. Normally when I'm out with fitter folk I can make up on
the descents some of what I lose on the climbs, but the descent on
this circuit was where I was losing most. Never mind, one lap down, two
to go. And gingerly I eased back down the hill.
As I blasted along the bottom fire road on the second lap, desperately
trying to make up time, there was an amusing vignette. Ahead of me at a
bend, a middle aged woman calling and signalling to something out
of sight. [censored], I think, dogs off the lead, that's all I
need. I barrelled round the corner at full pelt to come upon another
middle aged woman at the side of the track, hurriedly pulling up her
trousers...
Next time you see me coming you'd better run
This time as I was about to turn onto the deer path it was Bruce who
came up behind, and I let him get onto the singletrack first. Then,
above the canted slab, I heard wheels behind me again, and
deliberately rode off onto the grass to let Gareth blast past
me. Lapped, which is embarrassing; but lapped by the fastest man in
Scotland and someone who's very close on his heels, so not that
embarrassing. I was winded anyway, and took a moments breath before
riding on. Up on the red route, I made an unforced error in a tight
switchback between two tree stumps. I picked myself up and got ready
to mount again, and as I did so Ryan came past. Oh, the shame! Gareth
and Bruce I can take, but Ryan's still in primary school.
Never mind. Onwards and upwards, and then blast out along the fire
road to the start
Where d'you want this killing done?
And so to the last lap, easing back down that descent. I was getting
more familiar with it now, but it still took all my concentration and
all my nerve, and I was still ridiculously slow. I was also tiring, and
that hurts the concentration. And then, at the worst bit, a sharp
right hand bend between rotten logs on a crazy steep angle,
wheels behind me again. It was Steve. He'd come to keep me company,
which was really nice of him, but it was really spooking me to have
someone close behind on this section, so I yelled at him to get past
me. Him with a broken hand so he can't properly use his front brake,
on a descent I could only just manage with both.
Ho hum.
Down on the fire road I tried to get up to a good speed, but my legs
were struggling, and I was three of four gears down from where I had
been on the first lap. Then turn onto the deer path again, and up over
the canted slab. My line was all over the place. Eventually at the
corduroy it wobbled too far and I was off again. I tried to run up the
next bit, but my legs just didn't get the message and it was more a
sort of tottering amble. Back on the bike, only to lose it again at
the turn onto the red route - I couldn't keep the front wheel on the
ground. On again. Behind me, Steve was making encouraging noises,
saying I was doing well. I didn't feel as if I was doing well,
although I was riding technical single track considerably faster than
I ever have before in my life. But the end was in sight now. Up onto
the fire road, slam up into top gear... and overshift the chain
straight off the big ring. At once I could tell just from the feel of
the pedals that something's not right. Freewheel down and coast up the
next brae, off, sort the chain - horribly caught up in the rear mech,
so attempting to pedal through would have wrecked it - then on again,
find a last burst of energy from somewhere, ride the last couple of
hundred metres to the line...
That way, down on Highway 61
OK, so I was last (by a _big_ margin). I'm used to being last. I wish
I was better, but I'm not, and while I can build skill and fitness I
don't really have the sort of courage which will ever let me be very
good, now, on technical descents. So I don't mind being last. If I'd
known before we started what William had planned, I'd probably have
chickened out. I'm really glad I didn't chicken out. On that course,
with my level of skill, doing it at all was an acheivement. And it
also showed me that if I push myself I'm actually capable of things of
which I don't think I'm capable.
It helped a lot that I'd radically changed the tune of the Cannondale
earlier that day, lowering the bottom bracket and dropping the
pressure on the Lefty by fifty pounds. OK, so with the bottom bracket
lower I got a lot more pedal strike, but it made the descents a lot
less scary, while the softer front end made the bike more tractable on
the climbs. One thing that didn't help was my beloved Brooks
saddle. It's very comfortable, but when you need to get your weight
out as far over the back wheel as you can it's a bit wide to slide off
the back of.
But at the end of the night - scratched, bleeding from a gash on my
leg, mottled with midge bites - I'd really enjoyed myself. As time
trials go, that one was... erm... different.
--
[email hidden] (Simon Brooke) http://www.jasmine.org.uk/~simon/
Ring of great evil
Small one casts it into flame
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