I always forget something. Last time at the Highland Fling it was milk, this time it was a coffee cup and tea towel. I guess I’ll remember them next time and forget something else...
I was rushing around helping the family get ready for my eldest daughter’s 11th birthday party. With that sorted as best as I could, and with gray skies above, I departed home about 2pm to arrive at St Albans, home to the Dirt Works Classic (DW100) just after 4pm. I got the tent set up right before the heavens opened, but had to patiently sit in the car waiting for the weather to clear so I could register and make dinner. With registration done in a jiffy, and dinner all sorted I then got out the laptop thinking I would watch a movie (MTB oriented of course!) but wouldn’t you know it the battery dies to quick... Bummer... Note to self, bring alternative entertainment.
So after sitting around twiddling my thumbs I decided to make a trip over to the event centre and see what’s going on there. Luckily I ran into some friends, so the evening wasn’t a total drag. We sat around shooting the breeze and talking crap at the historic St Albans pub before hitting the sack early, knowing that there was a big day ahead tomorrow.
I slept fitfully, even waking at 2am to check on the bike. I wasn’t sure why, I just needed to check on it. I think I was a little on edge because the phone battery was low and I was afraid it might die and I would miss my alarm. I need not have worried though, as activity around the campsite from 5.30am ensured I was up in time.
Race day dawned and a fog had descended on the event centre overnight. This bode well for riding conditions as it would more than likely be a nice day. It had been raining nearly 5 days straight up until the race so conditions were expected to be ‘soft’. Luckily, with most of the race being up on ridgelines and with the area being on a sandstone base, the track I was assured had drained pretty well and wouldn’t be a complete bog-fest.
At 7.20am I rolled off the start in the last wave, the elite guys having left 20 minutes previous. The first 5km was on undulating dirt road and everyone was busy trying not to touch wheels. The punter racers are not really adept at roadie type tactics so I did my best to stay away from any possible carnage. It wasn’t long before we turned off the road and onto some double track, laced with mud puddles and before we knew it we had reached the first major climb of the day. My tactic for this race was not to smash myself on the major climbs. I have had a tendency in previous marathon races to hit the wall at about the 75-80km mark from going too hard too early, but I was determined not to do that this time around. So with my strategy in place I spent most of the climb walking with the rest of the punters. We would cheer those trying to clear the hill without dabbing but mostly it was quiet as we sucked in the O2.
On reaching the summit, a nature break was in order, the first of many throughout the day, but it wasn’t long before I had joined the rest of the back of the pack heading to the first feed station at the 28km mark at Sullivans Gap. I grabbed some food, filled my hydration pack before the hitting the trails once more on my way to Ten Mile Hollow and the halfway point.
Heading into Sullivan's Gap
Fire trail gave way to single track littered with sandstone ledge climbs. All were rideable which was a plus. I found myself in the granny ring for most of this section sitting at about 80% so as not to blow up later on in the race. The mud puddles combined with the sand and some clay kept things interesting and ensured I stayed alert or else it ended up with you hitting the deck. At one point I ended up axle deep in a puddle after losing concentration and sliding off the trail. With my left foot completely submerged and still connected to my pedal, and my right cramping almost solidly, it was chore just to get out and going again. However, after a bit of jostling I was on my way and eating up the wickedly fun single track. I had to temper my enthusiasm as I didn’t want to hit the wall too early. I blame it on my bike. My Lenz Sport Leviathan always brings me an ear splitting grin on single track and I swear it’s almost begging me to ride faster. The bike was saying yes, but the body was saying no, save it.
Before I knew it was being spat out onto some smoothish fire trail and the downhill run to Clare’s Bridge and Ten Mile Hollow, the halfway point in the race. I took some time here to refuel, rest, stretch and have a chat with some first timers about what they could expect for the second part of the race. I rolled out and onto the next major climb of the day, a smooth fire road climb from the feed station to the Great North Road. I hung in the granny ring for the climb, spinning a steady cadence and saving myself for some harder work later on.
Once onto the Great North Road the trail became single track once again with some serious sandstone ledges that reduced me, and those around me, to walking. Some technical ledge descents were also thrown into the mix to make things interesting, but the bike handled them with ease. I’d been racing for around five hours or so now and started having a minor panic attack. Would I make the 2pm cut-off at the kayak bridge? I upped the pace somewhat, concerned I was now riding too slowly, and the downhills suddenly became a lot more interesting.
The descent down Shepherds Gully to Settlers Road was particularly adrenalin charged as I passed about ten riders in the space of 500 metres. I tore past them on the way down and as I hit Settlers Road I hit the gas to the last feed station at the famous kayak bridge. After some procrastination (in fact, a lot!) it was my turn to attempt the bridge. My fears were unfounded as I nailed it with ease and received my wristband as a memento. I hit the paddock and headed up to the road, the only sealed bitumen on the course. This 5km section was only disturbed by the now awful noises coming from my drivetrain, due to a lack of lubrication.
Riding the Kayak Bridge
A U-turn saw me head up Webbs Creek Mountain Road, which consisted of a steep climb, a couple of hairpins, a false flat and more climbing. I walked to the false flat before hitting the saddle again for the slow plod to the highest point of the course. I was sure the marshal was keen to inflict some psychological hurt – “13.8km to the highest point”. My thoughts were “Gee, thanks for that!”. It seemed to have worked because it played on my mind as I wondered, have I reached it yet? By this stage I was about at my limit and all steeper climbs were walked. I came in and out of contact with about ten other riders and we would chop and change position depending on the terrain. I would be dropped on the climbs but made it back and sometimes get in front on the descents. I guess when you’re tipping 95kg, not including gear, gravity is your friend. And that was how it went for the next 20 or so kilometres. The distance signs kept me up to date on how far to the finish, but all I was looking forward to was the descent back down to the road. I was like a kid in a candy store when I saw the first concrete section of the fire trail (it’s that steep!) and it was on. I had passed nearly all the group I was with except two, so I was off in hot pursuit. I didn’t catch them until I reached the road but it was an absolute blast trying.
The final major descent
It was now time for a change in tact and I got into a steady rhythm on the dirt road section to the next river crossing. I passed a number of riders who’d either hit the wall themselves or were stopping for one last break. With 5km to go I hit the river crossing. Last time the river was thigh deep. I thought it would be the same or deeper given the recent rains. It was ankle deep. I could have ridden it with some commitment but the deep sand either side of the crossing scuttled those hopes.
I was now on the final stretch to the finish, all on dirt road and with the suspension locked out I went into tempo mode and motored to the finish where I greeted by a smiling official and a cold beer.
Another 100km completed. My time was slower than last time but there were aspects of this race I was very happy with, so for me it was a success. Can’t wait til next year. Bring it...
The aftermath... Some serious cleaning to be done!
