Gaby Book 26 On The Edge by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2021 Madeline Bell Seventeen - it's a birthday overshadowed by its predecessor and successor and Gaby's looks set to follow that pattern. There are however big decisions to be made, should she grab life by the horns and experience everything it has to offer or take the more conservative, safer route through life. This volume, the 26th in the Gaby series has all the elements of classic Gaby, bike riding, teenage angst, developing relationships, grist to the mill for our heroine as life in the Ahrtal ticks on.

 
If you've not been, Tenerife is dominated by Mount Teide, the dormant volcano that occupies much of the central region which means most of the roads occupy a strip about five K wide around the islands coast. Thats true of the towns too, which sort of stands to reason, their names just so many letters on the road signs as we made our way west along the north coast on the wide tarmac of TF-42.

From time to time the peak of Teide came into view, the waters of the Atlantic doing a similar game of peek a boo to our right. I guess we'd been tootling along for about twenty kilometres when Mum indicated we should take the next turn towards Le Caleta which turned out to be one of the smaller resorts without all the huge holiday apartment blocks. A short twizzle through the town and we were on the coast, I mean really on the coast, often just metres away from the low cliffs and the water beyond.

Along through what was clearly a modern 'resort' then the tarmac turned inland towards a small, solitary hill that looked a bit like our Eifel volcanos or even that lump near Nanna's in Somerset, something Knoll. Anyhow, we hooked around the north side and were soon in Buenavista, essentially the end of the line without some serious looking climbing.

Instead we did a sort of loop through the orange groves that had us heading eastwards back towards Puerto de la Cruz. So far our ride, whilst pleasant had been a bit boring from the riding aspect, no real climbing and mostly on wide tarmac.

"Rechts!” Mum called out.

The sign suggested El Tanque was a few kilometres away, a few kilometres up hill by the looks. There were a few mumblings in the ranks as we started on the first shallow incline, you know the sort of thing, maybe five percent, steep enough to know you're climbing but shallow enough to maintain a good pace still. Up into and through a small town then out into increasingly terraced fields.

"Knew it was too good to be true,” Ron complained as we hit the first sweeping hairpin.
"Yeah,” I agreed, "Does it go right over the top?”
"Looks like it.”
"Break rotation!” Mum suggested.

The road continued at a steady gradient without real turns, the more formal fields giving way to swathes of orchard which hid what was above although to our left the views of the Atlantic were clearly becoming more aerial. Ron and me were at the back of the bus and were only alerted to the first real hairpin by those in front changing gear. Once through the turn the rate of ascent dropped back again, this time we were on the outer edge with concrete blocks the only protection from the precipice.

By now our pace had fallen away some, to be honest I was itching to give it some welly. There was a toot from George following behind us and Mum dropped back for a chat with the Boss.

"Free run to the top,” Mum announced when she came back up, "You okay kiddo?”
"Yeah fine.”
"Hows the bike?”
"Well pukka!” I enthused.
"So what are you waiting for?”

Of course, my short discourse with Mum had distracted me from what was going on ahead of us, an upping of pace and already a bit of elastic stretching. Bum, did she mean to put me off? I set off like a blue arsed whatsis name, quickly bridging up to Gret, Tali and Erika however those in front were having a concerted dig.

Well two can play at that game, I dropped a sprocket, jeez these gears are sweet, and took a pull on my bidon as I mentally prepared for a big effort. Not that I know how big an effort, being tight in to the hillside, there was no real view to give a clue as to what lies ahead. Mum's 'diversion' had cost me about twenty metres and the concerted effort ahead left me with the thick end of another seventy to get back in touch.

Here goes nothing, I stood on the pedals to get the revs up a bit then settled into time trial mode to close the deficit. With the road swaying about a bit it was hard to judge but I closed fairly quickly on the back markers, good they're all still together, time to hit Gaby Boost! A slightly more pronounced bit of right hand bend briefly revealled more road, perfect.

A quick check under my arm for traffic, then out of the saddle, briefly crossing the white line as I passed the peloton then staying wide to take the third hairpin. A fourth came quickly after, then a steeper ramp to a fifth turn before a longer run to turn six, seven and eight following in short order. It was only after the last that I dropped back another gear and allowed myself a bit of respite.

There were glimpses of buildings still high above me, how much further to the top? I took a look behind, a lone figure was giving chase but of the rest, no sign. Okay then, another hit on the waterbottle and a quick squirt into my face, after taking my shades off of course – dur, and I settled back into a steady climbing pace. The grade was a bit steeper now then bend nine was another wide job, a name board stated El Tanque and in short order I was at the summit – strike one for Bond!

It wasn't much to look at, some roadside parking which I rode to the end of before pulling to a halt. I don't suppose it was more than a minute before a brake squeal suggested my pursuer had arrived.

"Flippin' heck girl,” gasp, "What did you have for breakfast?” Tina got out as she slumped over her bars.
"Just the usual Plutonium,” I replied with a grin.

By the time the others joined us we'd both regained our composure and I was munching on an energy bar.

"So?” Anja queried.
"Okay, you were right,” Tina replied, "She was waiting for me.”
"Told you,” Ron piped up.

The tail enders rolled up nearly ten minutes after my arrival and by their pained expressions, Mum had been riding them hard, George pulled alongside which allowed Petra to jump out with some fresh bottles.

"I'm guessing the Weltmeisterin was first to the top?”
"Even with a hundred metre handicap she had at least two hundred at the end,” Tina told him.
"Sehr gut, I think we will do well on Dienstag.”
"This was no Teide George,” Mum opined.
"True but the grade is similar I think for most of Teide. We can talk about this later for now we should get back for the presentation, steady eh?”
"Steady Boss,” we all chorused back.

We dropped down a short way to the TF-82, a main-ish road that we could resume our rotation on. It wasn't flat, think undulating, for about five kilometres then a fairly easy climb took us back over the crest and into another hairpin series that returned us to the main coast road. There was more traffic about now but it was only ten K back to our base and yes, that climb up to the hotel became an eyeballs out apocalyptic battlefield, it might be only four hundred metres but after a morning in the saddle its not what the legs want.

 
The 'lunch, shower, clean kit' didn't run in quite that order but near enough, the hour and a half was barely long enough for us riders – or indeed for Mike and Dad to give our steeds a quick wipe down to remove the road grime from our little ride. Kat and Petra were already down at the harbour, George had gone down whilst we were eating.

"Everyone ready?” Dad enquired as we all milled about in the bit of shade outside of reception.
"Looks like it Dave,” Mum suggested over the various conversations.
"Time to rock an' roll then, just follow the bus down, nice and steady.”

Mike appeared in the suspiciously clean team minibus, by the time Dad had the door shut, Team Apollinaris was all mounted and ready to follow. Its not far down into the 'old town', maybe three kilometres as the crow flies but the more sinuous route we followed bumped it to almost five, pretty much all with a downward tilt. The ride through the centre was a bit tiresome but we eventually reached the Plaza de Europe where we left the road and headed to where there was some sort of open sided marquee cum stage affair liberally strewn with Apollinaris banners as well as some of the other team backers.

I'm pretty sure that we weren't tardy but clearly things were already under way, I could see George up on the stage with another chap, some sort of promotional film playing on the screen behind them.

Petra hurried over to where we'd stopped.

"We're running a bit late, some problem with the PA,” she advised, "When Kat signals ride up the ramp and line up on the stage, seniors first then Jungere, Gaby, you come on last please.”
"Do we get off our bikes?” Tina queried.
"Neh, just stand astride, The MC will introduce each of you, maybe a question or two then you ride off the other side. We've got a room in the Museum for you to change in then its back to the stage for the press.”

Well it sounds simple enough.

 
Petra organised us into the order we were to arrive on stage, just in the nick o' time, Kat gave a very unladylike whistle to get our attention and it was show on. We've all got lots of riding experience, on the road we can flick our machines about, steer through silly gaps in traffic, keep in a straight line with barely a thought. However, a fairly steep ramp a metre wide at slow speed was more of a challenge.

In her enthusiasm, Anja nearly rode off the edge and at her turn, Mand almost stalled, but we were soon fanned across the stage, all new gear, shiny bikes and fixed smiles. I was a bit surprised that the short interviews were being done in English but I guess with a press corp from across Europe, it makes more sense than using German. Each interview was pretty much the same, riders name, the highlights of their palmares, a bit of banter – the MC was working from a script, then onto the next.

To be fair, it was much like some of the bigger races, well apart from the stage, but Daz was clearly quite nervous, not having had the same exposure as the rest of us. Josh was next to me, at over a metre eighty he was actually taller than even George.

"And last but far from least,” the MC schmaltzed, "We have Gabrielle Bond, the current under eighteen Weltmeisterin for both time trial and road race,” there was a bit of light applause before he went on, "So, like mother like daughter Gabrielle.”
"Well she only had one title at a time but I hope so.”
"And you took the same titles in the National events?”
"Luck was on my side, but being Weltmeisterin I won't get the chance to wear the champions jersey.”
"And your bicycle, it is different to your team mates?”
"Mostly just paint, the sponsors wanted to honour my titles, who am I to argue,” I grinned back.
"Thank you Gabrielle, so we'll have a short break, maybe sample some of the famous Apollinaris waters that we have for you and the riders will return for interviews and photographs, for now, I give you, Team Apollinaris!”

Some upbeat music came up and we started the slightly easier task of rolling down the ramp and out of the marquee.

 
By the time I joined the melee the seniors were already heading towards the Museum of Contemporary Art a short way across the plaza.

"Glad thats over,” Daz supplied as he peeled off his mitts.
"Ahm betting the next round will be more personal man, there was that guy from the Comic oot there,” Josh told him.
"No longer just famous in your own bath water Daz,” Mand teased.
"He'll be here for Gab, not me,” Daz blustered.
"Leave him alone,” Tali interjected, "Don't worry Darren, we'll big you up.”
"Are you lot going to change?” Dad hinted, "You've only got fifteen.”
"Shitza,” I mumbled. Well I guess its doable, just.

By the furniture I would say that our makeshift changing room was more usually used for meetings and that sort of thing but they'd found a clothes rail from somewhere to hang our dresses, a couple of tables held the rest of our stuff. There was even an attempt at changing rooms using some of those movable wall things but we are cyclists, any pretension to being body shy was long ago rooted out!

There was however a bit of a queue to use the adjoining bathroom, we might not have ridden far but its a warm afternoon, you do not want to be 'glowing' into the dresses too much!

"Don't be too long,” Mum instructed before following her teammies back outside.
"We won't,” i called back although whether she heard or not I couldn't say.
"You putting your hair up Gab?” Mand asked.
I dangled my scrunchie at her, "Only in a pony.”
"We should all do the same,” Gret suggested.
"That'll save five minutes,” Tal chuckled.
"Well I'm ready then,” I told them having done the deed while they were talking.
"You might want some massy,” my self appointed style guru opined.

Look, when you are blonde, I mean really blonde not out of a bottle, that includes your lashes, a bit of mascara takes away a bit of the washed out look.

"Bum, I knew there was something else, anyone got some?”
"Here,” Gret passed me a tube.
"Cheers.”

I hardly bothered using the mirror, well i've done it so often its like second nature, now eyeliner, that really is an art.

 
The atmosphere back at the marquee suggested something a bit stronger than Apollinaris Wasser was on offer, I spotted a table of beverages and headed that direction. However I was cut off from grabbing a glass of white by a chap I vaguely recognised.

"Something stronger than the sponsors product?”
"Is it?” I bluffed, "I was after lemonade.”

The girl er, girling the drinks must've heard the L word and I was soon holding a glass of fizz.

"Mike Jones, Cycling Weekly,” he introduced himself.

Of course, its not like there are that many journos on the circuit.

"Gaby Bond,” I replied on auto pilot.
"Well at least I got that right,” he smiled, "Can I trouble you for a few words?”
"Er sure,” I agreed.

The set up for the rest of the afternoon was quite informal, one on one interviews for the most part which meant that with a couple of dozen press / media types in attendance, even the lesser known squad members got their fifteen. Later on there would be a more formal session when George would spill the beans on the team and rider targets for the upcoming season. Payback for us lot is dinner in the old town and being left alone for the rest of the week.

Mike found a table and busied himself with his tape machine while I sipped my drink.

"I don't know if you remember but I did a piece on your mum after she won the road title.”
"We went out to Beckingham cafe?”
"Thats right, she ripped my legs off.”
"Mine too,” I admitted.
"I'm thinking you're the one doing the leg removal now?”
"On a good day, she can still hand it out.”
"So how do you feel about the change in British Cycling's focus away from road towards the boards?”
"I don't do politics.”
"Sorry, that was a bit red top, but it must have affected you?”
"Not as much as some of the others on the junior squad, I know Mark and some of the others were quite enthusiastic but it feels like they squandered some serious potential road medals.”
"So you chose to change your allegiance?”
"It wasn't an overnight thing, the rumours out of Manchester had been floating for a bit and the BDR had made approaches already.”
"BDR?”
"Bund Deutscher Radfahrer, the German federation.”
"So they approached you?”
"Well Dad really, I guess they were covering the bases, I live and study in Germany, do most of my racing there so it kinda made sense.”
"And the BC edict was the nail?”
"Pretty much, Dad and George had gone the extra mile for BC, arranging races, a joint summer training camp then Dave pulled the plug.”
"But its not stopped the team recruiting UK riders?”
"The gripe is with BC management not the staff or riders.”
"So how do you feel about young Mr Fox joining your ranks?”
"He's older than me,” I spluttered, "Yeah, he's a good lad, we've ridden together in the past for BC and he guested for us a couple of times at the back end of the year.”
"So where to for Gabrielle Bond in 2007? Double world champion, German double champion, what is there left?”
"I'm only just seventeen, last week in fact, so I get to defend my junior titles then I guess there's a chance I could get picked for Beijing so its everything to ride for.”

"What do you think of the rumours surrounding Lance Armstrong?”
"You mean the drug stuff?”
"Uh huh,” he agreed.
"I want to believe its hogswash, when I met him he seemed a nice guy and i've done enough drug testing to know they don't get fooled easily.”
"So you think he's clean?”

Do I? I know the rents have discussed the subject, there was even a book I think but come on, he couldn't get away with it if he was, that Swiss bloke got caught so they'd catch Lance if he was cheating, right?

"Lets just say i'd be disappointed if he was cheating.”
"There's rumours that you're riding the Mount Teide later in the week?”
"So they tell me.”
"I'll take that as confirmation,” Mr Jones proposed, "What do you reckon to your chances?”
I gave a little shrug, "If I was to ride I reckon i'd have a fair chance, not much of me to haul to the top, i've done okay on long climbs in the past so I reckon its down to staying in contention as much as climbing ability.”
"I'd better make that a wrap Gaby, I can see Hennie from Neuwsblaad itching to have a word, good luck on the mountain, maybe I'll catch you afterwards.”
"Er yeah, thanks Mike.”

The man from the Comic collected his stuff and cleared the way for his Dutch colleague, geez, heavy stuff or what, I hope I don't get too much of that stuff.

"Gaby, good to see you, may I?”
"Hennie, sure, how're you doing?”

Of course I know Hennie Kuiper, we've talked a few times, being an ex top league pro he's more on the ball than Mr Jones and his ilk.

"So, quite the shindig eh?"

 
Maddy Bell © 05.03.2021