Gaby Book 25 Only Five Minutes by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2019 Madeline Bell After all the excitement of the last few weeks culminating in the trip to Austria, surely Gaby can get back to some sort of 'normal'? Well it wouldn't be Gaby if it was that simple would it?

 
"Come on Gab, dig in!”

I barely glanced up in acknowledgement, it sounded like Manda though. Ahead of me I watched as my team mate and cyclocross guru, Anita, made an elegant dismount just behind the Belgian, Branmier. This course is a pig, several run ups, cross slope descents and not helped any by the overnight rain, or indeed the fret being carried off the North Sea even as we race.

I flipped the gear paddle and prepared for my own dismount. Well it wasn't as elegant as Fraulein Pilz but I got off without losing too much momentum, maybe playing about on that 'artistic' iron in the last few weeks has been useful after all. The soft ground was well rutted by the passage of bike shoes, I almost lost my footing as my balance changed when I shouldered my steed.

Somehow I clambered up the muddy slope, free arm waving about for balance on the tricky ascent, I mean, in the dry and unemcumbered by a bike on your shoulder it would be a difficult climb. Legs screaming, I reached the top, swinging the bike to the ground and with an inelegant leap I was back aboard my steed. At least this bit, along the top of the dyke, is drier and more easily ridden – which means faster too.

Of course, Cross is a big thing in the low countries, attracting big and noisy crowds and I was vaguely aware of the spectators lining the circuit. Click, back up a sprocket and again as my knobbly tyres bit into the gravelly surface allowing me to accelerate without too much loss of traction. The gap to Anita was holding steady at about twenty metres, if I can hold that and no one from behind has a surge I'm a shoe in for third place.

Cow bells and air horns joined the cheering as we approached the next tricky descent, a few metres straight down before a sharp left across the face of the slope. The best line is well defined by muddy ruts, its not so much picking your route as holding your nerve through the grooves. I unclipped my left shoe as I reached the turn ready to dab the ground, well no harm in being cautious, its all too easy to end up in a tangle if you slide out.

I made it safely through though, re-secured my foot and set off in pursuit of the leaders once more. The course designers like to get maximum course for their buck, todays race is part of the Vlaanderen Prestige series so they've gone all out with a sort of scaffold bridge affair into a sort of maze section before returning out underneath for more 'excitement'. The crowd cheered in their usual enthusiastic manner as I powered up the ramp, catching some air at the top before rattling over the bridge, the flooring noisily reminding me I wasn't on terra firma.

The maze section is quite useful to us riders, it gives us a chance to see where the rest of the field is without having to look about too much. Clearly Branmier and Anita would see me too, if they were concerned by my near attendance nothing showed in their mud splattered faces. Of more use to me was where those behind were, on the first return loop I got my chance to see or rather not, I thought I was maybe twenty five metres clear of the girl in fourth but when I did see the chasers they were at least a hundred back, a little knot of about five struggling through the mud.

Well that's good, I picked up my effort, bouyed by my 'lead', maybe I can get back up to Anita? The tunnel area has gotten particularly muddy, wet from the bridge above joining that already on the ground, I picked a line through the slurry and went for it full gas. The back wheel squirmed a bit through the glutinous mixture before a slight rise allowed escape from the clag.

At least the run through the pit area is on a stretch of concrete roadway, not that you'd know today as its covered in a layer of orange gloop. Of course that wasn't helped by the run off from all the washers used to clean the bikes down, todays strategy was clean bike every lap, I spotted Dad with my second bike and eased enough to do a flying dismount.

"FIFTEEN,” my pit crew shouted as I let go of one bike and made a grab for the fresh, clean machine.

I nodded acknowledgement even as I mounted the new steed. The finish line was around the next turn, a hairpin that placed it behind the pit area, the bell sounded, not long to go girl. A gob of mud flew up and hit me squarely in the mouth, pleh, not nice, not nice at all. I spat the grittiness out and wiped a hand across my face which did more of a smear than actually clean the muck from my lips.

Its a good job I'm not a girly girl, you can get a bit splattered on the roads, ride cross and there's definitely no room for prissiness! I slogged back around to the dyke, the backbone of todays circuit, the girls in front still tantalisingly close. Well you know me, third is a result but I'll fight all the way to the line and indeed, I think I made up a few metres on the flat.

The danger is over confidence and it was nearly my undoing, or rather not undoing. The next bank is far too steep to ride so I prepared to dismount for my run up, lose a gear, swing right leg over the back and shiiit! My left shoe failed to disengage the pedal so when I went to step off it pulled the bike forward and in short I ended up in a full on face plant, the pedal of course now decided to release which sent my bike flying into the barrier.

Urgh!, not good, I floundered about for a moment before finding my feet and then finding my bike. I almost dragged the thing to the top of the slope where I remounted to ride down the other side. Something wasn't right, a splash of mud in the eye told me what, my glasses are missing.
I know, sounds stupid wearing glasses in the mud but it keeps most of the crud from your eyes and i've swapped them out with the bike most laps. They're not expensive ones of course, I think Carsten gets them from some DIY place, but you really miss them when they aren't on your face. Well its not like I'm gonna go back to find them in the mud, guess I'll just have to grin and bear the consequences.

"You're catching 'nita!” Mand yelled when I got back to her vantage point.

Was that fact or just wishful encouragement? Dunno but I ploughed on through the gloop, if there's even the slightest chance of a higher step on the podium I'm gonna take it. At this stage of the race, half a lap to go, I can afford to turn up the turbo a bit, oh my legs are feeling it a bit but so will everyone elses be.

Truth be told, my tumble had opened the gap to those in front a bit but whilst they were fighting each other pedal stroke for pedal stroke, I'm riding my own race. So whilst they are contemplating a sprint for the line i've been nibbling away at their lead. By the time we reached the last dyke descent I was less than ten metres from Branmeir's wheel, oh yes, the Gabster is in with a shot!

Ten metres, doesn't sound much does it? On the road, a kick on the pedals and i'd be across but here on this muddy field it might as well have been ten miles. Oh the gap was closing but too slowly and alerted by the crowd, the others were aware I was there too.

Over the bridge and into the maze for the final time and Branmeir hit the gas, Anita responded and if I wanted a shot I had to too. Urgh, heavy legs, the Belgian opened a couple of bike lengths but promptly lost the same as my team mate took a better line on the next turn, which aided me as I was literally following her tyre tracks. Back and forth, back and forth, we were heading towards the tunnel as the next group crossed over the top.

The front pair were pretty much riding side by side as we hit the concrete lane through the pit area with me trailing a couple of metres behind. Into the last turn and the Belgian tried again, this time I reacted first, getting up to Anita's wheel before she heaved herself forward. It looks like a drag race to the finish, less than a hundred metres of muddy grass between us and the line.

I got alongside Pilz but my legs were having none of it, so near yet so far. I wasn't the only one suffering though, Branmeir's slender lead evaporated quickly as we approached the line and a badly timed wheelspin sealed her fate. Nita crossed the line, with my momentum carrying me past Branmeir almost on the line.
 
Dad and Carsten were waiting after the line and it was the latter who stopped me careening into the barrier.

"Great ride Gab,” Anita told me with a pat on the back as I lay over my bars.
"You too,” I heaved out between breaths.

Someone, I'm guessing Dad, wrapped me in a jacket before I relinquished my bike and collapsed onto the grass.

"Come on kiddo, you'll get cold down there.”
"Legs, gone,” I gasped out wiping ineffectively at my mud coated face.

Its a muddy cross race, unlike road events the presentations would be long enough away to get at least semi cleaned up, with the Hymer only a few metres away, time enough for me and Neet to get a quick shower. Dad had the sides on the E-Zee-up on so it was a case of peel off the sodden race kit outside then straight into the shower inside. Like I say, a quick shower, get rid of most of the mud being the priority, Dad and Carsten will have the bikes washed off by the time we're done.

You certainly can't be shy if you race bikes, even at elite level there often isn't much in the way of changing facilities, here on the Dutch coast they had put in mobile showers and a marquee thing for changing and race HQ but having our team 'bus' is certainly a step up. And lets face it, even the officials don't want to do the presentations with mud covered urchins.

"You two ready?” Dad called through the door.
"Almost,” Anita replied as she pulled her hair into some sort of order.
"Be right there,” I added, pulling my trainers on.

For once I wasn't last, when we got to the presentation area Branmeir was a few steps behind us.
 
"In third place, riding for Guylvan Stena, Annamiek Branmeir!”

The Belgian girl, all six foot of her took her place on the lower step.

"And in second place, riding for Apollinaris, Gabrielle Bond!”

I took my place and leant over to shake hands with the vanquished.

"The winner of the fifth round of the Nieuwsblatt Vlaanderen Prestige Elite Cyclocross, Anita Pilz for Apollinaris.”
 
There was all the expected cheering, prize presentation, interviews for the mostly Dutch press and mugging for the official photos before we were able to escape. Don't get me wrong, I know its part of being successful and I do kind of enjoy them but sometimes, like today, all you really want to do is finish getting the mud out of your ears and crash with a hot chocolate. Someone must've read my mind, well de Vreen to be exact, there was a pan of steaming chocolate waiting when we got back to the Hymer.

"You look done in Gab's.”
"Cheers, it was hard work out there.”
"Thought you liked hard work?”
"She likes cocoa more I think,” Anita opined as she snagged a mug of the dark nectar.
"Good race today girls,” Carsten told us, "We'll make a crosser of you yet Gaby.”
"I think she already is papa,” Anita informed her father.
"One of them for me?” Dad enquired joining us a moment later.
"So where're we eating?”
"Ga-abs,” Neet and Mand chorused.
"Hey its important, why they have to run these things at lunch time.”

Of course, as is tradition, we drove for a couple of hours back across Holland before breaking the journey just outside Maastricht, a bar cum restaurant we've used before. I was well starved by now and made short work of my big bowl of spag bol as well as a good slice of apple cake with Sose Anglais. Just what Gaby ordered.

With a couple more hours driving back to the , once we reloaded ourselves I made myself comfortable and was soon in the land of nod.
 
"Gab, we're back.”
"Huh?” I managed as the brain cells tried to re-engage.
"We're home,” Mand repeated as I blearily sat myself up.
"Where's Neet?”
"We dropped them off at the hotel like forty minutes ago.”
"Right.”

I was tired okay? In an ideal world I wouldn't be going to college in the morning, we'd have not done an over five hundred kilometre round trip to do the race and I wouldn't still have mud in my scalp. Dream on Bond, the reality is that I do go to college and Apollinaris isn't a bottomless money pit, the budget for 'cross is puny, little more than kit and expenses, its just not the team's top priority.

"Brrr, its flippin' cold,” I mentioned as we descended from the camper.
"They were warning of snow on the radio.”
"I'll believe it when I see it,” I retorted. We might be in the Eifel 'mountains' but we don't see snow that often or usually in any great quantity.
"Just telling you what they said,” Mand pointed out.
 
I snaked an arm out and silenced the alarm without cracking an eye, I know its stupid o'clock in the morning and dark so why bother? I snuggled back under the duvet and lay listening to the sound of – nothing. Hey, that can't be right, there's always some noise even at six a.m. My eyes snapped open and sure enough, there, almost covering the eyries rooflite was white stuff.

When I was smaller, okay younger, snow on a school day was good news, more than about half an inch and the school would be closed. They are less reactionary here in Germany, after all, they actually clear the roads so there's no excuses until there's at least half a metre which in the Ahrtal is almost never. Oh well, looks like thermal hose and my ski jacket then.

Despite my lethargy I was up and dressed before anyone else appeared, I was into my second cup of coffee before Dad appeared.

"Snow,” I opined.
"Hmm? Oh yeah, they were saying on the radio last night, any left in the pot?”
"This is only my second,” I huffed.
"I know what you're like,” Dad mentioned as he searched for a mug, "Take it you're going to college?”
"Its probably not even snowed in Koblenz or even Remagen.”
 
Thirty minutes later I trudged my way around past Thesings to where the Koblenz Express, aka Olaf's Polo was already waiting.

"Come on Gab,” Max urged throwing the rear door open.
"I'm not late,” I grumbled as I clambered in.

So of course, outside its like minus something, in the car its like a sauna. My fellow travellers had clearly taken off jackets before strapping in hence the pile of coats between me and Max, I on the other hand was left to disrobe in the confines of the back seat whilst balancing my bag on my knees and getting tangled in the seatbelt.

"Hope the autobahn's been cleared,” Olaf suggested as he cautiously piloted us down the valley towards Ahrweiler.
"Music anyone?” Freddy suggested.
"Might be an idea, we'll get the travel news then,” his brother stated.

"You win then?” Max queried as I finished my contortions, adding my jacket to the pile next to me.
"Second,” I sighed, "Anita got top step.”
"Top step?” he asked before the brain cells worked, "Oh she won, that's good for the team right?”
"Yeah, some of the big teams are wanting to sign her for the next season though.”
"What about you?” my BF enquired.
"What about me?”
"You must be a hot property too, they not chasing you?”
"Dunno,” truth be told i've not exactly thought about it, "They might I s'pose, have to ask Dad.”

To be honest I'm not even sure how I feel about the idea, Apollinaris is sort of the family team, me and Mum race and Dad is the cross and junior DS for it seems like forever. Well that's exaggerating things but for the three years we've been in Germany anyhow. Of course Mum was on the team a year before that.

"Earth to Bond!” Max prompted.
"Eh? Oh sorry, just thinking.”
"You don't want to go doing that Gab,” Freddy chuckled from in front of me.
"Ha de ha!” I mumped.

The car chose that moment to have a bit of a squiggle on the icy motorway slip.

"Sorry folks,” Olaf tolds us, "I hope the main roads better.”

Me too, me too.
 
Its a long climb from the Ahrtal up onto the autobahn, the car did another couple of little boogies before we reached the main carriageway and the queue of slow moving traffic. I guess the schnee is more widespread than I thought. Anyhow, we crawled along, a similar procession was heading north, it was slow but we were at least moving.

I think i've said before, I like snow, to look at, ski on, meet princes on – scrub that, it was pure coincidence he was there, well anyway, you get my drift – drift, get it? Riding or driving on the stuff, well I get a bit edgy, especially since my off in Austria last year. The fact that as the day lightened it revealed a sky pregnant with more snow clouds did little to reassure me.

"Looks like its all stopping,” Max pointlessly announced, well everyone could see the string of red stop lights ahead of us.

Olaf slowed us to a halt at about the same moment Robbie Williams was interrupted by the traffic news.

"Autobahn A61 southbound has been closed from Brohltal to Mayen Nord due to worsening road conditions, traffic already on this stretch being directed onto alternative routes.”
"Looks like we're gonna be late,” Freddy stated.

Well duh! And as if that wasn't enough, the sky started to release more of the white stuff.
 

© Maddy Bell 26.07.2019