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.

 
It was knocking on six o'clock by the time the journo's had their fill of Team Apollinaris and George called a wrap. They might have finished interviewing but some of these media types don't know when to depart, bending anyones ear to talk bikes, maybe get those few words that no one else has. Anyhow, it was with a palpable and communal sigh of relief that we all gathered around the mini stage, exhausted from all the talk.

I think everyone, including Dad and George had a dip in the pot, I certainly saw Mike Jones with the 'English' squad members, others like Hennie were more cosmopolitan in their interviewees. Of course, for me at least, the questions were pretty similar to the rest, my Worlds success, ambitions for the coming season, following in Mum's footsteps, yada, yada, yada. Our duties to team and sponsors over I think we were all ready for some down time, I mean, we haven't eaten since lunch five hours ago!

"Okay ladies,” George addressed us.
"Hut hum?” Josh supplied.
"And of course our jungere herren,” George added, "Thank you for your efforts today, I think we made an impression on the press, we just need to translate that to the road eh? So, we have a bit of tidying up to do here still so I'll ask Kat, where is she?”
"Here Boss,” she waved an arm.

Of course everyone turned to look her way where she was struggling to zip up a very nice frock.

"What?”
"Well when she has finished dressing,” George grinned, "Kat will take you to the restaurant, the rest of us will join you there shortly.”

By now Gret had assisted with the recalcitrant zipper and Kat Pinger had regained her poise.
 

"So, whats with the dress and heels?” I asked joining my friend as she led us from the plaza.
"Whats wrong with it?”
"Nothing, its just not very, well Kat, you're usually in shorts and t shirts.”
"Thats practical, this is not being shown up by you lot.”
"Come on Pinger, we look like a flock of cabin crew for some cheap airline,” well we do.
"Very tan and fit crew.”
"If you say so.”
"I do, so for once I'm glamming up.”
"What about Pet?”
"What about her?”
"Dur, I'm supposed to be the dumb blonde, is she dressing up too?”
"Blonde you may be Gaby Bond, dumb you are not. Of course she is.”
"Talking of which, where is she?”
"Gone on ahead, we'll meet her there.”
 
Our crocodile of sky blue and cream made its way through the streets of tourist tat, burger bars and more mundane stores to the old town proper, only a couple of hundred metres I suppose, fetching up at the Rancho Grande, a slightly more upmarket establishment with views of the sea from its balcony. Of course, we attracted some attention, some calls of recognition, there are lots of bikies on the island, some less welcome from inebriated 'holiday makers', and not exclusively from the male examples. There are sometimes reports on the telly about these 'lager louts', a particularly British phenomena but this is the first time i've seen it first hand although Daz's flight experience should have alerted me.

"Nice,” Mand mentioned.
"Lets hope the food is up to scratch,” I added.

Most of the tables were already occupied but a figure was waving to us, well I guess it was to us, there not being anyone else just arrived.

"Over here guys.”

Petra? Now don't get me wrong, I have seen Pet dressed up before but like Kat, at races and stuff you rarely see her in anything but shorts and shirt, well in my experience that is. The figure encouraging us to a group of vacant tables was not that person, for starters her hair was up not in a pony and she was wearing makeup. But the more striking element was the rather chic trouser suit thing she was wearing, it probably wouldn't work on a short arse like me but on Pet's rangy frame it looked great.

"Any of these tables,” she gestured about her, "There's Sangria on the way.”

Oo, Sangria, me likey.

"Alcohol free,” she finished.

Dang! Still, it's better than water.

I guess when you spend sometimes weeks travelling, sleeping, eating and racing together, its almost inevitable that you become a close knit clique, we don't get that the same on the junior team. The trip to Austria before Christmas did however give us an in to the inner circle and I think the girls enjoyed having some different faces at the table. The lads, Daz and Josh, were a different matter, Josh preferring to be with Tali and Daz tagging along, safety in numbers I guess.

"Come on Wunderkind, make your mind up,” Erika chivvied from behind me.
"Er.”

I randomly pulled out a chair and sat myself down, other bodies following suit around me.

"No one here?” Kat enquired.
"Be our guest,” Erika told her.
"Nice dress Kat,” Anja opined, "You're usually in shorts.”
She shrugged as she got herself seated, "I do wear other stuff you know.”
"Just saying,” Anja offered in conciliation.
"So where's this Sangria?” Erika queried.
 

You don't really want to know every detail of the meal, or our conversations. Well okay, we started with a mixed Tapas followed by a Paella heavy on the seafood, Churrios, those long doughnut things, with ice cream rounded out the meal. There was plenty of it and the Sangria was free flowing and even in alcohol free form it hit the spot on a warm evening in good company.

George called a halt to things about nine thirty, an hour later I was sat on the balcony sipping a mediocre coffee Mand had procurred from somewhere.

"This is the life eh?”
"Not many,” I agreed, "Guess we have to start working for it tomorrow.”
"I guess, I don't like the sound of this Chamorga place.”
"How bad can it be?”
"Knowing George and your dad, very.”

Well there wasn't really any argument to that however tame they tried to make it sound, sixty-ish kilometres to this Chamorga place for lunch then back for another seventy K. I'm sure there's something they aren't telling us, guess we'll find out tomorrow. We both sat in silence, well apart from the distant sounds from the town below, the distant lights of La Palma twinkling across the black waters of the Atlantic.
 

I stil felt half asleep when I wheeled my bike out into the morning sunshine, scrap that, early morning sunshine, despite three cups of coffee, a bowl of fruit and joghurt, two cheese and meat sandwiches and an almond croissant.

"Yaah – uh!”
"Give over Gab,” Gret complained, "You'll have us all at it.”
"Soz,” I allowed, "Why do we have to start so early?”
"To avoid the heat dumbo,” de Vreen advised – again.

Of course, 'avoid' is relative, it was well warm on yesterdays ride and we were back for lunch.

"Okay. Lets go,” Mum instructed from the front of the collection of bikes and riders.

Whether intentional in choice or mere happenstance, one advantage in the hotels location is that we don't start off by negotiating the town streets, down the hill and we are on the main coastal route. We tracked the motorway we came in on for about a kilometre then picked up the TF-217 which we followed through the rolling farmland north to Alucansa where we changed to the twelve twentyfour and then the sixteen through increasingly rural countryside to Tejina.

The pace was steady piano, comfortable but the conversation dropped off on the up grades. At Tejina, once we cleared the town centre, we climbed up onto the TF-13, a new bypass that swept us eastwards above a deep canyon before hurrying us through more urban landscapes to the junction signed for the TF-12 to Mercedes. Of course, its Sod's Law that after having lost all momentum to negotiate the roundabout turn the road started a steady upward tilt.

"This is it,” Tina told us.
"It what?” Mand queried.
"Start of the climb.”
"Great,” Daz sighed.

From what Dad told us earlier its about twenty K to this Chamorga place but it could be like ninety minutes ride, twice as long as we'd normally expect to take. Yep, you don't need to be a rocket scientist to work out that one!

George drove up alongside us, "Tina, Gaby, drop behind please, Jenny, all yours.”
"What now,” I mumbled as I eased off and let those behind overtake.

It was a matter of moments before it was just me, Tina and the team car, Dad in the bus with Mike and Petra having passed already.

"Okay ladies,” George started, "The hard work begins. The others will try to beat you two to the top, I want the both of you to get there before them. It matters not which of you is first, decide your own tactics, there will likely be other riders on the road, make use of them.”
"Whatever you say Boss man,” Tina allowed with a sigh.
"Gaby?”
"On it,” I agreed.

George dropped behind and I looked up the road, the rest of Apollinaris were a good way ahead by now, at least a couple of minutes by my estimation.
 

"So, what now?”
"I was going to ask you the same,” Tina admitted.
"We could just do a two up to catch them then sit in to the top?”
"Then get jumped by your mother or even Amanda, I think we need a different approach.”
"Maybe you're right,” I conceded, "But what?”

We were rolling along at about twenty five, a slight tail wind giving a little push up through the town.

"Keep it steady, maybe catch up some other Radfahrer, let them think we are far behind then catch them unaware.”

Well its not brilliant but it has merit.

An idea suddenly hit me, "You don't think George has seeded the climb with other riders somehow?”
"I can't see how.”

You might not, Tina Porsche, but I can and George can be very devious, why did he even mention the possibility otherwise?
 

At the top of the town things got serious quite quickly, a set of switchbacks raising the road quite abruptly through a woodland that both hid our quarry from view and sheltered us from the quite warm sunshine. We rode at a steady tempo for what seemed like forever but my computer reckoned was about two kilometres, the trees hiding any vistas for all but very short stretches. They also, with the aid of a twisting road, kept the rest of Apollinaris out of sight until a longer straight stretch after we passed some visitor centre place – they were still well up the road and apparently all together.

The gradient was fairly constant at about six percent, the odd short ramp getting us out of the saddle as we shared the pace. The road hugged the hillside now, tracking the contours before the valley opened out a bit, the road dropping through Las Casas before climbing again through more scrubby trees.

"Riders ahead,” I huffed.
“Got 'em.”

It looked like a small group but were they ours or just some guys out for a ride?

We closed the gap steadily, identifying them as 'ausgruppen' only when the trees thinned to give way to open scrub. It looked like a group of four, riding steadily together, the mix of jerseys suggesting friends rather than some sort of team. The trouble now was that i'd lost track of Mum and the rest, was that them going into those trees?
 

"Sprechen ze Deutsche? English?” I asked when we made contact.
"Deutsche,” one of them replied, "Von Schweiz.”
"Sehr gut,” I allowed, "You mind if we sit in for a bit?”
"Sure,” one of the others volunteered, "Michael.”
"Gaby, my friend is Tina.”

The others volunteered names, Gustaf, Bruno and Giorgio.

"So you guys training?” Tina enquired.
"Just a long weekend with some riding,” Gustaf supplied.
"You with that group that passed?” Giorgio queried.
"In theory,” I told them, "We're trying to catch back up to them.”
"That Bee em vey yours?” Michael indicated George following about fifty metres behind.
"Our coach,” Tina agreed.
"Where are you off to?”
"The plan was Draguillo, the end of the road on the coast,” Gustaf advised, "You?”
"Some place called Chamorga.”
"Ach, we went there last year Giorgi,” Bruno mentioned.
"We could go again,” Michael suggested, "Fancy some company girls?”
"We are supposed to be getting back to our team,” Tina hinted.
"Pretty sure we can help with that eh lads?”

If they are George's stooges they are good actors but maybe they are just out for a ride. Anyhow, six bodies are better than two for a chase especially when they look like quite capable riders. There was a mutual reboot of fluid and we were soon doing a more workman like pace.

For me and Tina it was all win, we could do this speed on our own of course but with six riders sharing the effort we're not using the same energy. I'm pretty sure I saw the others as we headed into the next proper climb but it looked like a smaller group, have they split. Guess we'll find out later.

This climb was more persistent, maybe twelve percent on some parts, not enough to break up the party but enough to have us out of the saddle to keep the pace going. George hooted from behind, when I looked back he had the left hand indicator on, I guess we take the next left then. The turn wasn't that much further on, we crossed into the new road and immediately started climbing above the other tarmac.

It wasn't hugely steep but it angled up fairly straight which allowed us to see the rabbit when the road turned a little. We were definitely closer, according to the sign at the junction its just twelve kilometres to our target, we need to get a move on. The guys were, its fair to say, giving it a good bash, I guess if you live in Switzerland a bit of climbing is second nature.

It wasn't all up, there was a slightly rolling texture to the route but for every metre lost we gained two. I'm sure we looked a strange sight, four strapping chaps and two diminutive women sharing the pace, yeah, its uphill, its how fast the wheel is not shelter from wind that counts. The road started to switch about a bit more and up ahead a bare mountainside loomed above us, I guess we're in for some more serious climbing.

Our little peleton continued to share the effort and I almost missed seeing Gret when we passed her so intent was I on the effort. Gret may have been the first but in the next kilometre and couple of hairpins we passed Tali, Daz, Anita and Anja which left just Mand, Josh, Mum, Roni and Erika ahead. They were in sight but that meant we were too and the road is running out.
 

The road levelled off for a bit, a chance to replenish fluids again before the final assault. I think the guys were enjoying themselves, our little pursuit adding a bit, well a lot, of zest to their ride out. The next pitch was quite brutal by the time we emerged from the trees it wasn't only those ahead in disarray but our Swiss train had finally derrailed, Michael and Bruno still doggedly giving their all, Gustaf and Giorgio having blown. On the other hand, Team Apollinaris were now in pieces, Erika slotted on when we caught her but Manda couldn't stay for more than one rotation before dropping back.

"We'll see you at the Casa,” Michael told us, "Enough for us.”

Its a blow but not the end of the world.

"Thanks guys,” I offered, "Kaffee on me.”

The Swiss slipped backwards leaving three of us versus three ahead.

"So whats the plan?” Erika asked.

On the way up with the Swiss they had described what to expect, at the top of this rocky landscape there's a short tunnel then its about a kilometre to the end of the tarmac. Not a lot of room for error but George only wants us to be first to the top. There's really only one plan that might work.

The village loomed above the tunnel entrance, the three of us dove into the darkness just metres from our quarry. Erika was on full gas, Tina behind her with me bringing up the rear. It was less surprise than exhaustion that facilitated the pass.

"Bugger!” I exclaimed just as I drew alongside Mum.

Its difficult to make a bad or noisy gear change with this top notch kit but my down up quick shift combo made enough noise to throw Mum's concentration.

"What's up?”
"Nothing,” I chirped as we exited the tunnel, see ya!”
"Shit!”

My move had blocked not just Mum but the other two from giving chase to Tina and Erika, just long enough for them to get clear. I stood on my pedals and went after them as Roni and Josh joined Mum in her cursing. Erika made it to the first post tunnel turn before blowing big style by which time I was caught back up, Tina and I immediately going into TT mode.

We kept the pressure on up into the village, it might not be an actual race but I'm sure Mum would give everything to catch back up to us. My effort to recatch Tina and Erika finally called time on my efforts just as we reached the summit of the last ramp, it was Tina who was first to the bus where Mike caught her, Dad doing the same for me moments later. Rather than Mum it was actually Roni who arrived next in a sweaty gasping mess, hmm, have to remember that.

 
Maddy Bell © 08.03.2021