2006 has been an interesting year for me, and not always for the best. Getting divorced and buying my own house were the main reasons for my realisation, with some surprise, that I haven’t raced this year! In fact, when I think back, the Honda has only been out on four occasions, and two of those were to my local practice track. The GS has filled my biking needs, as no real forethought is required. Simply push it out of the garage and go for a ride. Racing needs pre-entering, making sure the weekend is free etc, and with the kids taking a priority all my time seemed to get eaten up. So when I spotted a WOR event on the enduro calendar that you didn’t need to be a member for, billed as an easy end of year race on some new land, I decided to enter. Rob and Tony, two of my mates from my motocross days also expressed an interest, especially as Tony has a brace of Aprillia’s at his disposal.
Which is why at 11.00am this morning, we stood at the side of a fire road near Bala, watching horizontal rain lash across the hillside wondering WTF we were doing! One of Tony’s mates had come along to ride the third Aprillia, but he bottled out, claiming that he rides for fun, and this did not look like fun!
I quickly changed into my gear and dragged the Honda out of the trailer before anyone else could bottle out, then headed off to find signing on. This was nearly a mile away, as were the rest of the facilities, which meant Roz had an awfully long walk to the ladies! She declined an offer of a lift down from me, but after walking halfway was grateful to Rob for taking her the rest of the way.
The start was delayed by 45 minutes as the beginners race in the morning had left a few stranded bikes and riders to collect. They delighted in telling us how awful conditions were, an hour to do a lap, bottomless bogs, killer hills, relentless root filled ruts etc. I hoped they were exaggerating.
The Vets class were flagged away first, with Clubmen next, then Sportsmen. The three of us were riding in the Vets, Rob set off like a scalded cat, with Tony and I cruising near the back of the 20 or so in the class. Fire road for the first few minutes, with a couple of diversions onto the grass at the side to slow people down, then a hairpin left down a steep rocky track. This brought us onto a narrower fire road for another few minutes, before turning off and dropping onto a loamy track. Here the first of the Clubmen caught us, one diving inside me at the drop off and promptly binning it right in front of me. Back onto fire road, heading ever downwards, until we turned up a loose gravel and clay hill with two shallow ruts which seemed to go up for ever. This was no problem for the first couple of laps, but the top third of the hill seemed to have lost all of it’s gravel, leaving a slick clay surface. At the top we followed some logging tracks which were bumpy and covered in brash, making for a few interesting moments, then a bulldozed straight leading onto the moor land. Momentum was the key here, as spinning the wheel dug you into a hole. The course twisted back and forth, up and down some short steep hills, and through some worrying looking patches of water! I spotted Rob stuck on one of the hills, and smiled as I sailed up it, only to spin out and drop it myself on the next hill, jarring my left thumb badly. This meant holding on with my first finger and clutching with the other three to give the thumb a rest where possible. Quite a few riders were passing me now, but round the next bend there were lots of them bogged down in one of the patches of water. Climbing around the side of the bank kept me out of the gloop and on my way into the woods, where the course twisted its way through stumps and trees for another few minutes. The ground was surprisingly dry, but the roots were still slick enough to send the unwary into an encounter with growing timber. The finish line suddenly appeared, and the customary one rut track towards the van, where a marshal wipes the front number before letting you go.
Lap two started with a wave from Roz, who was trying to take pictures, but the light levels and an unfamiliar camera were conspiring against her. A bit of a moment when a turn appeared where I didn’t remember one, but managed to scrape round. The ruts on the long uphill had got deeper, and the clay had got quite a few ruts in it now, but keeping close to the trees at the edge offered a smooth run. Onto the moor land, my line on the first little uphill was blocked by a fallen rider, so I went to the right. My goggles were spattered, so it was at the last minute that I saw the four foot rock step blocking that line (my name isn’t Lampkin!) necessitating a swift change of plan. This plan wasn’t successful though, and I hit the deck again, having lost to the laws of physics. Back into the trees, and Roz is stood there, but had put the camera away as the rain had started to fall again.
Lap three went nice and steadily. My tiredness level had reached a plateau, as it usually does, and I felt as though I could continue at this pace for another couple of laps. Five laps seemed a certainty, six a possibility, especially as when I stopped to clean my goggles where Roz was standing and she told me that Rob and Tony were only just riding their second lap.
Lap four, and the rain had eased, everything was going smoothly, until the rutted uphill. The ruts were quite deep now, and as I got a third of the way up, my back wheel bounced out and went sideways. Without the ability, or strength, to snap it back into line, I launched off into the undergrowth. Dragging the bike back, I tried to get going again, but promptly repeated the manoeuvre, ending up underneath the bike. Extracting myself, I had a lie down for a minute to catch my breath before having another go. This time I got another 100 yards, and had just grabbed third gear when I tucked the front, and slid to the floor again! This was becoming less than a joke. All of a sudden I felt very tired, and controlling the bike became difficult. Paddling my way to the top, I stopped and grabbed some grass to clean my gloves and grips before carrying on. My pace had dropped, I was no longer attacking, but fighting to stay on, and that is usually the opposite of what happens! At this point an Aprillia passed me. I was surprised to see that Tony had taken his jacket off, and was riding in a MX shirt. I was even more surprised when, giving chase, I couldn’t get near him. Turns out it was someone else entirely, but it sped me up for a minute!
Into the woods for what I have decided will be the last time, I stopped and cadged a smoke off a spectator. There was only 15 minutes to the flag, and I had realised that there was no way I could face that hill again. Rob rode up and waited with me, having done two laps, and not really enjoyed himself . He hates riding in trees, and only came as it was a chance for us to ride together again.
Once we saw the flag, we rode through the finish and accepted Steve Ireland’s congratulations, before accepting an even more welcome cup of tea courtesy of my pit crew, who was shivering but smiling. I think that was more at our appearance than her enjoyment of the event! Tony met us back at the van, having done “2.9” laps, which sadly he won’t be credited as a finisher for, as he didn’t ride through the actual finish!
So endeth my 2006 race season, but hopefully 2007 will see me able to do a few more. I suppose how I feel tomorrow may have a say in that plan!
Mark
Which is why at 11.00am this morning, we stood at the side of a fire road near Bala, watching horizontal rain lash across the hillside wondering WTF we were doing! One of Tony’s mates had come along to ride the third Aprillia, but he bottled out, claiming that he rides for fun, and this did not look like fun!
I quickly changed into my gear and dragged the Honda out of the trailer before anyone else could bottle out, then headed off to find signing on. This was nearly a mile away, as were the rest of the facilities, which meant Roz had an awfully long walk to the ladies! She declined an offer of a lift down from me, but after walking halfway was grateful to Rob for taking her the rest of the way.
The start was delayed by 45 minutes as the beginners race in the morning had left a few stranded bikes and riders to collect. They delighted in telling us how awful conditions were, an hour to do a lap, bottomless bogs, killer hills, relentless root filled ruts etc. I hoped they were exaggerating.
The Vets class were flagged away first, with Clubmen next, then Sportsmen. The three of us were riding in the Vets, Rob set off like a scalded cat, with Tony and I cruising near the back of the 20 or so in the class. Fire road for the first few minutes, with a couple of diversions onto the grass at the side to slow people down, then a hairpin left down a steep rocky track. This brought us onto a narrower fire road for another few minutes, before turning off and dropping onto a loamy track. Here the first of the Clubmen caught us, one diving inside me at the drop off and promptly binning it right in front of me. Back onto fire road, heading ever downwards, until we turned up a loose gravel and clay hill with two shallow ruts which seemed to go up for ever. This was no problem for the first couple of laps, but the top third of the hill seemed to have lost all of it’s gravel, leaving a slick clay surface. At the top we followed some logging tracks which were bumpy and covered in brash, making for a few interesting moments, then a bulldozed straight leading onto the moor land. Momentum was the key here, as spinning the wheel dug you into a hole. The course twisted back and forth, up and down some short steep hills, and through some worrying looking patches of water! I spotted Rob stuck on one of the hills, and smiled as I sailed up it, only to spin out and drop it myself on the next hill, jarring my left thumb badly. This meant holding on with my first finger and clutching with the other three to give the thumb a rest where possible. Quite a few riders were passing me now, but round the next bend there were lots of them bogged down in one of the patches of water. Climbing around the side of the bank kept me out of the gloop and on my way into the woods, where the course twisted its way through stumps and trees for another few minutes. The ground was surprisingly dry, but the roots were still slick enough to send the unwary into an encounter with growing timber. The finish line suddenly appeared, and the customary one rut track towards the van, where a marshal wipes the front number before letting you go.
Lap two started with a wave from Roz, who was trying to take pictures, but the light levels and an unfamiliar camera were conspiring against her. A bit of a moment when a turn appeared where I didn’t remember one, but managed to scrape round. The ruts on the long uphill had got deeper, and the clay had got quite a few ruts in it now, but keeping close to the trees at the edge offered a smooth run. Onto the moor land, my line on the first little uphill was blocked by a fallen rider, so I went to the right. My goggles were spattered, so it was at the last minute that I saw the four foot rock step blocking that line (my name isn’t Lampkin!) necessitating a swift change of plan. This plan wasn’t successful though, and I hit the deck again, having lost to the laws of physics. Back into the trees, and Roz is stood there, but had put the camera away as the rain had started to fall again.
Lap three went nice and steadily. My tiredness level had reached a plateau, as it usually does, and I felt as though I could continue at this pace for another couple of laps. Five laps seemed a certainty, six a possibility, especially as when I stopped to clean my goggles where Roz was standing and she told me that Rob and Tony were only just riding their second lap.
Lap four, and the rain had eased, everything was going smoothly, until the rutted uphill. The ruts were quite deep now, and as I got a third of the way up, my back wheel bounced out and went sideways. Without the ability, or strength, to snap it back into line, I launched off into the undergrowth. Dragging the bike back, I tried to get going again, but promptly repeated the manoeuvre, ending up underneath the bike. Extracting myself, I had a lie down for a minute to catch my breath before having another go. This time I got another 100 yards, and had just grabbed third gear when I tucked the front, and slid to the floor again! This was becoming less than a joke. All of a sudden I felt very tired, and controlling the bike became difficult. Paddling my way to the top, I stopped and grabbed some grass to clean my gloves and grips before carrying on. My pace had dropped, I was no longer attacking, but fighting to stay on, and that is usually the opposite of what happens! At this point an Aprillia passed me. I was surprised to see that Tony had taken his jacket off, and was riding in a MX shirt. I was even more surprised when, giving chase, I couldn’t get near him. Turns out it was someone else entirely, but it sped me up for a minute!
Into the woods for what I have decided will be the last time, I stopped and cadged a smoke off a spectator. There was only 15 minutes to the flag, and I had realised that there was no way I could face that hill again. Rob rode up and waited with me, having done two laps, and not really enjoyed himself . He hates riding in trees, and only came as it was a chance for us to ride together again.
Once we saw the flag, we rode through the finish and accepted Steve Ireland’s congratulations, before accepting an even more welcome cup of tea courtesy of my pit crew, who was shivering but smiling. I think that was more at our appearance than her enjoyment of the event! Tony met us back at the van, having done “2.9” laps, which sadly he won’t be credited as a finisher for, as he didn’t ride through the actual finish!
So endeth my 2006 race season, but hopefully 2007 will see me able to do a few more. I suppose how I feel tomorrow may have a say in that plan!
Mark
