Gaby Book 18 - Summery

There was a bit of looking around going on, clearly some puzzlement at the lack of an Apollinaris move. Indeed, anyone looking at a form book would be expecting us to be making a concerted attack right about now. But we don’t have a plan today do we?

The ride across the training ground was uneventful, the peloton an amorphous blob which allowed several back markers to rejoin.

“What happened?” I asked Ron after dropping back a few places.
“Tal punctured, thought I'd give her a hand getting back, took a bit longer than expected.”
“You didn’t miss anything.”
“Oh goody.”
“Feed this time through,” I noted.

Ron nodded in agreement and we drifted apart only for Tal to replace her as we dropped into the dell.

“Puncture?”
“Rear, ratios are a bit out.”
“But rideable?”
“Top ends fine,” she confirmed.

It was me doing the nodding this time as we separated.

Clearly we, that's Team Apollinaris, weren’t going to do anything – at least any time soon, our fellow competitors seem content to wait us out – you can almost see the gears working in their heads. Someone did go for a long one as we exited the trees, but it seems that no one else is interested at the moment, he got about fifty metres and just hung there.

He was still there as we came out of the military zone and into Bredebeck, time to get curbside ready to take the musette . Angela and Sonja are pretty expert at this now of course, its not something you really practice although I guess we should. The feed zone has been placed just before Hörsten to get it out of the way before the public road, suits well enough, we can eat on the slight down slope of the long straight.

I grabbed the bag that Angela held up and quickly slung it over my head. Its a dangerous place to be so I accelerated to get clear before anyone touched wheels. There are no written rules but its generally considered bad form to attack in the feed zone, so it was a relaxed bunch who started lap three.

There isn’t a lot in the musette today, a fresh bidon, energy bar, half a banana, some sort of sandwich and some mixed fruit in a bag. I sat up and quickly transferred my supplies allowing me to dispose of the bag within the drop zone a few hundred metres after the line. The banana was quickly squeezed into my food orifice and the natural packaging flung onto the verge – at least that won’t be contaminating my jersey pockets!

With a lot of the bunch taking the opportunity to refuel it was almost like a mobile picnic. The sandwich turned out to be paté and tomato, easily consumed and digested and a welcome change to all the sugary stuff. Looking around the pack, the other sky blues were done feeding for now, not long now.

The long wide straight came to an end and reading the body language of the peloton the trap was ready to be sprung. Josh let himself drop back leaving just Gret in the first twenty as we started the haul up to Osterholz. There were a few nervous glances and then the bait was taken!
Both the Bavarians took off like scalded cats quickly followed by half a dozen others, they soon had clear road but the rest of the bunch, as Dad predicted weren’t feeling in a lay down mood. The chase wasn’t very co ordinated but it was purposeful with at least a dozen riders taking pulls on the front. Josh, I could see was gnashing at the bit, patience, big boy, patience.

Oh we contributed a bit, I even took a turn at the front but we left the others to do most of the work. The gap however remained fairly constant, maxing out around two fifty metres but mostly around fifty less. The break faltered a little at the short, steep blip, the gap was halved and our job made all the easier.

I checked around for the others, Mand was alongside Tal, both looked okay, Ron appeared fresh enough, Gret appeared to be puffing a bit though – I hope that's just acting. The gap was still closing, I was close enough to the front of the chase to see first one then more glances backwards as we approached the Osterholz turn off. There was a degree of movement amongst the chasers, and suddenly the front was a sea of Apollinaris blue.

We hit the bottom of the ramp and all six of us hit the turbo button. We sliced through the break like a hot knife through butter, by the turn onto the Heide we were clear, five girls in a string behind our big motor. Josh stormed through the control point, our speed lifting to almost fifty K before hitting the first of the roller coaster rises. He took us up the other side before we started a fast rotation, effectively a team time trial.

Of course I don’t give a lot of shelter, Josh gives a lot so we’d devised a line up that meant I followed the big Toon who followed Ron, Gret, Mand and Tali. In theory we get the most effective advantage, even Josh getting some shelter behind next tallest Roni. It was eyeballs out across the open plain, we need to make as much lead as possible before we start losing people.

I slid to the back before looking under my arm for the chase, the quick glance revealing a lot of tarmac back to a blob humanity – perhaps four hundred in arrears. Tali took us out of sight into the dell, we’ll be hidden until the chasers clear Siebensteinhauser.

“Enough?” Josh asked.
“Maybe, we should stick to the plan though.”

You didn’t really think there was no plan today did you? It’s an audacious one and won’t earn us many friends but that's not the idea: winning is the idea.

Back into the open after exiting the dell we held a steady forty five kph, Josh taking longer pulls at the front instead of swinging straight through. Gret however clearly hadn’t been faking back at Osterholz, she was struggling to come through.

“Sit in, Gret,” I suggested next time we crossed.

She nodded agreement. Even if she isn’t pulling at the front, according to the BC guys we go faster just by her presence in the line. Something to do with airflow, I don’t really get it even after Dad’s explanation last night.

The MC was kicking up a storm as the Apollinaris express started lap four. The spectator numbers have steadily increased each time round, there promises to be a reasonable crowd at the finish. This next leg is potentially our most susceptible time, several dead straight, slightly downhill kilometres, the now rising breeze in our faces.

We were half way along the straight when Gret finally blew. A cry of “gone!” was all that alerted the rest of us as we trailed Josh. She still has a rôle to play, hopefully muddying the chase even just a little.

A quick glance behind as we turned off the arrow straight section revealed the pursuit to be a good distance behind the neutral service although I didn’t see Gret before returning my attention forward.

“Enough!” Mand gasped out.
“Me too,” Tali added.
“We can rest a bit,” I offered.
“I'm done, Gab,” Mand stated.
“Ron?”
“I'm still good.”

By my reckoning it’s about fifteen K to the finish, I can probably time trial there on my own.

“See you at the finish,” Tali suggested.
“Laters!”

And so five became three.

Josh was taking longer pulls now, he was fresher than usual having not spent the first fifty kilometres chasing stuff down. Ron for her part was looking well and me, well I've still got some in the tank. Talking of which, I pulled a handful of raisins from my pocket and topped up the levels a little.

The Osterholz ramp felt steeper this last time up, it has to feel the same for everyone, we aren’t the only ones tiring. We were clapped through the checkpoint by a few military types, the last leg at, er, last.

It’s not all easy now, in fact the opposite is true, this is perhaps the most dangerous time. Any let up by us could allow the chasers to come back, over confidence is as bad as lack thereof. Ron checked behind.

“Can’t see them.”
“Might be in the dip like,” the usually taciturn Josh suggested.
“Through the dell and I reckon we’ve got it,” I opined.
“Aye man,” the Engine agreed before hitting the gas again.

Into the trees, bends, dip into the dell then back up onto the open heathland and with less than five kilometres to the line we eased off. Don’t think we’re not taking it seriously but there's no point in killing ourselves to finish a few seconds earlier. Nope, barring disaster one of us will be first over the line, and if there is a late surge from behind, well we’ve still got some in the tanks.

Yeah, disaster. I looked down at my front tyre again, definitely losing air. Question is, do I get service or push on? Sprinting will be out if I go for the latter but a bad service could put me back with the chasers. Better third than no podium I guess.

“We’re not sprinting are we?” Ron queried as Hörsten came into view.
“Tinkerbell can’t,” Josh told her.
Not sure how he knew so I decided to come clean, “Front tyres nearly flat.”
“Team finish?” Josh offered.
“Should be yours,” Ron told him.

I couldn’t argue, he has done a lot of work today.

We turned onto the finishing straight, Josh in the centre, a girl to either side, the three of us crossing the line abreast with a combined victory salute. The chasers did sprint for the line about thirty seconds later, there are Jungere League points to be had down to tenth. Not sure what Dad thought of our finish, we’d cleared the points, made a good photo op and not been involved with any controversy.

Well apart from deciding just who did win – after all they have to have a winner don’t they? They finally gave it to Josh after a long examination of the photo, they gave me third but let’s face it the three of us were split by five centimetres. The others came in with the main bunch some five minutes down, yeah they were well er, tired.

Of course we had to go through the whole presentation thing, not just for the race but the league too. It was almost three by the time we were packed up and ready to leave.

“Food?” Dad suggested.
“Er me mam’s expecting me an’ Tal to eat at home,” Josh told us.
“Deet?”
“Wouldn’t mind getting off to be honest, Dave,” Luchow senior mentioned.
“Okay then,” Dad allowed, “I'll speak to you all in the week.”
“I'll drop your kit off if you two are riding up to the camp,” Dieter offered.
“Thanks man, we’ll see you next time like,” the still grinning victor told us.

Farewells made, the southern contingent loaded onto the bus before Dad addressed us.

“I take it you lot want to eat?”
“Duh?” I mentioned.
“Okay.”
An idea hit my frontal lobe, “We could go see those rocks, you said you wanted to last year and like we’ve been past four times today, but I've no idea what they look like.”
“It’s fine by me, Dave,” Angela stated.
“Mand, Ron?” Dad’s always democratic except when he’s not.
“I could do with a snooze,” Mand opined.
“As long as we eat after,” Ron added.

Dad was obviously quite pleased by my suggestion, he was actually humming as we started a fifth lap of the day.

Maddy Bell © 21.01.17