I don’t know why I was so bothered about a window seat, we were soon up above the clouds, anything below effevtively hidden by the cotton wool clouds that look so pretty against the endless blue skies. I pulled out the pile of photocopied articles i made yesterday and started to read.

“What’s that?” Izzy asked craning over to look.
“Business studies.”
“Sounds boring.”
I shrugged, “its part of my college course.”
“So I guess you aren’t doing General Studies then?”
“Business Management.”
“She already runs a snack bar,” Tal put in.
“Really?”
“Well sort of, it belongs to my friend’s parents.”
“No sort of,” Tal insisted, “Mand says you do all the ordering and stuff.”

Loudmouth de Vreen!

“Its not like i’m a partner or anything, so what’re you doing?”
“Just General Studies for now.”
“Me too,” Tal advised, “second year.”
“Snap,” Izz grinned.

Okay, i’m the baby of the squad, one day I won’t be. Turns out that Izzy is a right gossip, she kept up a continuous stream of conversation for a good hour, in fact it was only the arrival of lunch which shut her up. That’s not to say she was a bore, it was quite entertaining and even informative listening to her.

Lunch was surprisingly good, grilled salmon with mash and cabbage followed by a small tub of vanilla ice cream. Definitely a step up from serf class, we even had real metal cutlery and china plates, yup, you could get used to this. Once the detritus of lunch was cleared Izzy tuned into the cinema, Tal curled up with her book and I settled down for forty winks, Ontario is like five hours behind Germany so its gonna be a long day.
 
I looked under my arm, I know I shouldn’t but I did anyway. The gap back to the peloton wasn’t much, fifty metres maybe and with a kilometre to go its not enough. A click of the gear shift kept my cadence nice and smooth on the start of the ramp, its not steep but it is draggy.

Its been, for the most part, a pretty boring race. The circuit is pretty flat, not like Holland flat but there’s been nothing to upset the bulk of the riders and so we’ve seen a succesion of suicidal escape attempts before the strongest teams closed things down. For the last forty kilometres its almost been a procession as we’ve all come to the same conclusion, a gallop will decide the title.

Its not like I even planned this move, Tal and Izz were controlling things nicely and I was getting keyed up for a head to head sprint with van Bruggen, the Dutch champion and Anna Jones, the Australian girl. Then Sally Thomas, one of the BC usurpers took a flier, no way was I letting her go so I took chase, she quickly faded leaving me isolated and dangling like a carrot. So here I am, eighty five kilometres in, leading the race, my chances of winning reduced to almost zero.

Almost zero but not absolutely zero. If I can get enough clear road before we get to two hundred I may yet thwart the ambitions of my rivals and take the main prize. Less thinking Bond, more doing, I adjusted my arms into a slightly more aero position and pushed just that little bit harder on the pedals.

The crowd were beating on the barriers, cheering loudly making a wall of sound as I entered the canyon that’ll take me to the line. I caught a glimpse of a screen, the camera view was distorting things, the bunch looks so close but I can’t hear them. Two hundred to go, time to finish this, I changed sprockets, hit the turbo and started my final effort.
 
“Did I get it?”
“She’s still dreaming,” a voice opined.
There was a tug on my arm, “Gab, wake up.”
“Hmm?”
“She always like this?”
“Nah, worse,” the second voice suggested, “come on Gabs, there’s food.”
“Food, no’ ‘ungry.”
“Definately sickening for something.”
“More for us then,” voice one suggested.
“Izzy?” i queried cracking an eye.
“It lives,” Tali’s voice crowed.
I pulled myself upright, “where are we?”
“Greenland I think,” Iz offered.
“Good dream?” Tal enquired.

Dream?

“Er okay I guess.”
“Here comes the food,” Iz advised flipping her table down in preparation.
 
Our second feed was a sort of high tea affair, a plate of tiny English style sandwiches with what look like mini muffins – well its free food even if its not a lot. To be fair it wasn’t bad, certainly not the somewhat plastic food you get in the cheap seats. The stewardess had just finished serving us drinks when Frank appeared at the end of our row.

“Okay ladies?”
“Fine thanks,” Tal replied.
“Excellent.”
“Erm, Herr Obermayer, what happens when we get there?” I queried.
“Canada? Well Laurin and Leon will meet us with our transport then its a bit of a drive to the hotel.”
“I thought we were staying in Toronto, near the course?” Tal mentioned.
“The junior events are in London,” the boss advised.
“London?” we chorused.
“Thats not in Canada,” I added.
“Apparently there is a London in Canada too, a couple of hours from Toronto, we should get there for dinner.”
“Ooo!” I allowed.
“Might be a good idea to get a bit of sleep before we land.”
 
I did end up snoozing again after the latest round of refreshments, so much for reading stuff for college. Somehow I slept through a further round of beverages only waking as we started our descent into Toronto. The view out of the window revealled very little, an expanse of water but not a great deal more, I guess it must be Lake Ontario.

With the time difference it was a little after three local time when we touched down although my body clock was telling me it was after eight. I reckon I slept for about half the flight so at least i’m not too tired although i’m sure, by past long haul experience, it will catch up with me. Toronto Pearson is of course pretty unremarkable, just another collection of terminal arms and concrete, baking in the afternoon sunshine.

Frank and Annika rode herd on their charges and in a surprisingly short length of time we had our baggage collected, with two bikes Tony and i had to resort to trolleys of course. We emerged into a land strangely familiar but at the same time alien, twangy English and yes, our first sighting of scarlet jacketed RCMP officers.

“Frank!”
“Laurin,” our boss man greeted the small dark haired woman who joined us.
“You got through quickly, Leon’s gone to fetch the bus.”
“Any trouble?”
“Nope, not so far, lets get these guys to the hotel eh.”
“Erm,” izzy put in with a raised hand, “any chance of using the facilities?”

Bum, I hadn’t wanted to go but now my bladder feels ready to burst.
 
Our transport turned out to be a big Mercedes bus with a box trailer hitched behind – I had wondered how we were going to get us and all our gear around. Leon, our driver and mechanic for the champs, already had the trailer open when we reached him. Eight bikes, Leon’s tools, Laurin’s massage table and all our cases pretty much filled the trailer, ten of us in the bus did at least leave a couple of empty seats.

Once we were loaded Leon took the wheel and soon we were on the Canadian motorway system. The adults had occupied the front most seats and were soon deep in conversation which left us to our own devices. What that meant in reality was that we each found a corner and made ourselves reasonably comfortable for the next leg of the journey.

I hadn’t intended falling asleep again but the scene beyond the bus windows was uninspirational, if it wasn’t for a few unfamiliar brands on roadside hoardings we could easily have been down in America, the US of A.
 
“We there?” Izz asked as she stretched a couple of hours later.
“Five minutes,” Laurin called back.

Outside, the early evening was pretty much the same as it had been in Toronto, by the lack of jackets on the locals i’m guessing quite warm – we’ve been cosseted by the bus’s air con. Our accomodation turned out to be a chain hotel, the Lamplighter Inn, think posh motel and you wouldn’t be far off. We stiffly climbed down, collecting our suitcases before heading inside where Frank was using his best broken English to get us sorted out.

“Ah Gaby, can you help please.”
“Er sure, what’s up?”
“My English is not so good, could you check I have things right please.”
“Um okay,” I turned to the slightly bemused desk clerk, “um hi, can you go through that again please.”
“You speak English, sorry I don’t know German,” she apologised.
“No problem, so how far did you get?”
 
With me racting as interpreter it only took a couple of minutes to get us checked in, I was surprised that whilst the adults were in a couple of twins, each of us riders had our own room. A step up from BC or even Apollinaris, not that i’m against sharing but sometimes you just need you’re own space. Keys were distributed and directions given.

“We’re booked in the restaurant for eight,” I concluded.
“Thanks Gaby,” Frank told me, “so go get settled in and we’ll go through the programme for tomorrow after dinner.”

We trooped across to the lifts and once we’d worked out which floor was which – yeah calling the ground floor first will confuse Europeans everytime, we were soon at our rooms.

“Should we dress for dinner?” Tal asked as I fumbled with my key card.
“Dunno, probably.”
“Seriously?” Izz queried.
“Didn’t you bring anything?”
“Well nothing exactly posh.”
“Who said anything about posh,” Tal chuckled, “team Gabs?”
“Dad insisted.”
“Team?” Izzy looked perplexed.
“Yeah, we have an official off bike uniform, just put on a frock or something smartish, we’ll show up the lads eh?” I told her.
“Okay, see you in about half an hour?”
 
Of course there was some sense in Dad’s suggestion, wearing our team frocks both cut down on luggage and had us looking smart – this time we aren’t just representing Apollinaris but our country too, well adopted in my case. The room was actually a double, not huge but certainly comfortably furnished. I wasted no time in shedding my travel outfit, cargo shorts and a loose T, after something like sixteen hours my intimates were past their best that's for sure.
 
Knock, knock.
“You ready Gab?” Tal called through the door.
“Yup,” I agreed swinging the door open, “lets go eat.”
“What about Izzy?”
“Right here,” our third member advised, “damn, I feel like a real slob.”
“You look fine,” Tali advised, “come on, i’m starved.”
 
Of course, whilst we weren’t late we were the last to arrive.

“Heck, everyone’s looking at us,” Izz mumbled.
“Get used to it, its the Bond effect,” Tal snickered back.
“Just because we’re bike riders doesn’t mean we can’t look smart,” I pointed out.

We made our way across to the rest of the German under eighteen squad where Frank and Leon quickly stood and did the seating business.

“I knew I should’ve brought a dress,” Annika sighed.
“Good job she didn’t bring her Kostum,” Tal chuckled.
“So erm, what’re we eating?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.
 
Maddy Bell © 12.10.2018