*Chapter 6*

Passed Over
 
 
“How we doing?” Steve enquired.

What we were doing was getting our kit loaded for the transfer to tonight’s sleeping place – the organisers have supplied the transport in the form of a post office truck that was collecting the kit for all the teams. We are staying at some place called Meiringen at the thoughtfully named Hotel Tourist, no really. It’s only for two nights as we spend the last race night at Interlaken, which even I’ve heard of – well Mum was there last winter.

“Nearly done Steve.” Dad advised him, “Josh can you give Drew a hand with that please.”

“Da-ad!” I groaned, I mean its not like I’m useless.

“Sure Mr B.”

Josh grabbed the case I was struggling to lift and hoisted it up onto the truck – grrr.

“Team brief in ten.” Steve stated.

“Go on you two, I’ll sort these last couple.” Dad told us.

“Everyone happy?” Herr Direktor enquired.

The plan was simple, keep me in contention for the big climb then get to the finish. The stage profile has a couple of other smaller climbs before the pass and one just before the finish but none of them score any points for the mountains competition. There are two intermediate sprints at 33 and 71 kilometres, the pass is at 78km and we finish in Brienz after 100km of riding.

There was an exchange of looks between us, the frivolity of last night replaced by pretty much universal trepidation. We’ve done the training, got through the first easy stage but today is something entirely different.

“No? Okay good luck everyone, have a good ride.”

“Okay you lot, presentation in ten so we’d best get moving.” Caro chivvied.

Whilst I’ve been wearing the leaders jersey in the Jüngere Cup events this year seeing Cav in the yellow and me in my spotty strip felt quite different. So okay it’s not the Tour or Giro but this is a junior equivalent and it’s certainly nice to have on my palmares. One positive is that Mark and I start on the front of the peloton and the rest of our squad are only a couple of rows back so unlike yesterday where we pretty much started at the back we get to lead the race out of Luzern.

Mark and I shook hands, “race you for the finish.” Cav offered.

“I’ll think about it.” I grinned back.

The PA screeched for our attention, “funf, vier, drei, zwei, einer, go!”

Someone waved a Swiss flag about and with a clatter of cleats on pedals we were on our way. Today we had to negotiate the cobbles of the Altstadt before crossing the river, our procession pretty much did a city tour before the lead car accelerated ahead and the neutral section ended. Clearly with a tough days riding ahead no one was going to do anything daft like attack on the streets of Luzern, a few riders moved up however – I recognised one or two from yesterday.

The speed wasn’t too high for which I was thankful, even a few k’s at an easier pace would give particularly the girls a fighting chance of being in the mix when we needed them. The wide boulevards gave way to narrower streets which had the effect of stringing the bunch out, I’m glad I started at the front, this could be a recipe for stupid mistakes causing accidents. We swung alongside the lake and got our first view of the mountains to the south, mountains we would finish the day on the other side of.

Our route was now sandwiched between a mountain and the lake, literally cut through the rock in places and with a little over twelve kilometres under our wheels a few riders were getting a bit agitated. By now Josh, Jamie and Darren had joined me and Mark near the head of affairs, we were prepared and everyone else seemed to be watching us, waiting to see what we’d do. It was tempting but we, I, am under orders not to do anything unless we really have to before the first intermediate sprint.

Finally one of the Italians couldn’t contain himself and went for it, which resulted in – nada. One rider on his own isn’t a danger and with Cav’s distinctive jersey the onus is on us to do any chasing hence everyone else’s apathy. As we’re not interested in wasting energy no one else felt inclined to assist us, any help later would be welcomed but not expected.

The lone rider ahead of us made about five seconds before we crossed into Stansstad then remained there dangling like a sky blue carrot. I glanced at Mark and got a wink in reply, the others all looked comfortable enough perhaps Darren looked a little uncomfortable but he gave me a grin when he saw me looking. I guess we are as ready as we can be.

We crossed under the autobahn and into Stans, our carrot still dangling but going nowhere. I’m sure he’d been expecting some sort of reaction, if not it was a long shot to escape even for the first sprint this early in the proceedings. There was a reasonable crowd in the town centre who were quite vociferous in their cheering.

Back out of the town and into a slight headwind as we headed back towards the motorway. That kind of played into our hands; with five riders in the front twenty we were ideally placed to control things as echelons started to form. Of course it also meant that breakaway boy started to lose his advantage and by the time we started circling the Ennetbürgen military base he’d been swallowed up.

The morning cloud has been replaced by blue skies with just a few clouds scudding about as the temperature rises. I took a swig from my bottle which caused a comical copycat response of riders drinking, an idea popped into my head; yes we can play this to our advantage.

“Mark?” I half whispered.

“Wassup?”

“How d’you like that jersey?”

“Why, what are you cooking up, we’re under orders remember?”

“Time bonus?”

“And?”

“A little leg stretch?”

“Okay you’ve got me.”

“Short climb coming up, up the ante a bit, get the bonus then sit up.”

“They’ll never let us.”

I shrugged, “nothing ventured.”

“You’re call then.”
 
 

By the time we reached Buochs the others were aware we were doing something, I’m sure the other teams had seen us talking and were expecting something. When we turned onto the bottom of the climb they were therefore at sixes and sevens when instead of attacking we dropped the pace. They had a choice now, attack themselves or wait to see what we were up to. Of course go slow on a hill and the whole peloton bunches up which in turn makes it more difficult for anyone trying to put in an effort to get through which means…

Mark fluttered his fingers and Jamie and I set off in a concerted effort for the top with the yellow jersey tagged in behind. We’d been expecting it, the rest hadn’t so the delay in their response was enough to give us a twenty metres start, the road wasn’t particularly wide either which meant Daz and Josh’s blocking was more successful than I’d expected. We were quickly over the top and without the headwind we soon had a rotation going, as we’ve made the move the other teams now have to do something, the onus of pursuit moving away from Team GB.

By the time the road levelled out we had about fifty metres, a chasing pack and a kilometre to the sprint point. Doable – just, I snicked up a gear and dug a little deeper, unlike yesterdays finish today we’re only thirty kilometres in and we’ll have plenty of chance to recover a bit afterwards. We rattled across a level crossing and passed the town sign and not far beyond the 400m indicator.

Jamie was looking a little ragged.

“Drop if you want.” I gasped as we crossed.

He shook his head no, the grimace on his face half hidden by a grin.

Into the town proper, we sliced through the corners and there it was, our grail, the intermediate sprint. The bunch couldn’t be far behind, none of us would risk a look behind but a plate glass window provided a rear view mirror. Yes we had space.

I’m guessing the crowd from our first pass through the town had moved to see us come through a second time, as there was a good cheer as we approached the line. Jamie finally gave up about twenty metres short but even so he crossed the line ahead of the chasers who swept all three of us up within metres. The time bonuses were ours, anyone wanting the yellow would need to finish eleven seconds in front of Mark now – with only half a dozen riders given the same time yesterday that narrows the field and my own bonus of five seconds has me second on the road.

After the chase the bunch seemed content to have just brought us back, no one was ready to attack on the back of our effort. Of course the fact that we’d been tamed in our attack sent quite a mixed bag of signals to the bunch, really all it proved was that they hadn’t really learnt anything from yesterday. The longer, wider, sweeping climb out of Stans was climbed at a fairly good rate of knots, not enough to cause any problems at the front of the bunch, I just hope the girls are okay back there.

Josh and Darren rejoined us as we bumbled along the valley floor.

Josh’s eyebrow rising query got an ‘okay’ hand signal to which he grinned back.

The next bit of excitement will be the feed station in around ten kilometres, hopefully no one will get jiggy before then so we recover some from our ‘attack’. Around the bunch faces now looked more relaxed, they’d killed our attack, we were clearly a spent force, yesterday was a fluke wasn’t it? Not everyone had fallen for it of course but enough that at least for now the pressure was off a little.

“What are you up to?” Roni’s voice enquired in my ear.

“Eh? Oh hi Ron, nice day.”

“Don’t you nice day me, what was that play acting all about?”

As if I’m gonna tell her!

“What acting?”

“Back at the sprint.”

“Thought we’d try the same as yesterday.” I offered.

“If you say so.”

“Well I suppose it was a bit early to attack, fresh legs in the bunch still. You seen Mand today?”

“Seen her, she’s like a flippin’ limpet!”

“Hi Drew.” Manda called out.

At least one of the girls is up here.

“By the way, well done for yesterday.”

“Cheers Ron, it was only third though.”

“And a pretty spotted jersey.” She pointed out.

“This ole thing? Just something I picked up on the way.”

She did the eye-rolling bit before moving off.

“You okay Mand?”

“Went a bit wild for that sprint back there.”

“Um sorry bout that. The others?”

“Sal was off the back for a bit but she’s back now.”

“Cool, it’s about thirty to the pass.”

“I can wait.” She allowed before returning to shadow Ron.
 
 

“We set?” Josh asked.

“Think so, Ron smelt a rat but its not like we’re attacking again is it?”

“If you say so boss girl.”

“Hey!”

He stuck his tongue out, “gotcha!”

At least my fizzog isn’t plastered over every post out here – quite.

The pace was sitting a steady thirty kph, higher than pre sprint but I’m sure once the climbing gets going it’ll drop. The feed was on a slight up going through Kerns which everyone managed to negotiate – as far as I can tell, without mishap, leastwise I didn’t hear any of the cacophony often associated with this bit of a race. Transferring everything out your musette is another potentially hazardous exercise, dropping stuff, attacks but not this time.

A few bends, a short climb then we were dropping towards Sarnersee into Sachseln. A few watchers cheered as we swept onto the main road back towards Luzern but soon we were turning off into Sarnen to follow the opposite shore of the lake. If I remember rightly after the next village there’s another short sharp climb to reach the top lake, have to make sure no one takes a flier on that.

The sun sparkled off the lake to our left, even this fairly small slab of water infested on a Sunday with dinghies and wind surfers. I looked around the other riders, the Swiss lads are obviously up for it on their home turf, a smattering of north Europeans sat uneasily with the darker Mediterranean region riders, can we really take it to them all again today?

© Maddy Bell 15.01.14