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On The Edge by Maddy Bell
Copyright© 2021 Madeline Bell
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Advantage Bond
"With me,” I hissed at Ron as we safely negotiated a roundabout moments after the crash.
I moved up the outside of the group, not even checking for my friends presence, reaching the front as we departed Springe, the hopefully prophetically named town we'd just passed through. It was going to be a gamble, a big gamble, there is afterall still a hundred kilometres to go, but all this pussyfooting about is doing my head in. It looked like we were just moving up, least wise that was the idea but when we reached the pointy end of things I snicked up a sprocket and took off like magnesium pellets on a pond.
It was far from the ideal escape spot, into the wind, exposed open countryside, wide sweeping road but when has common sense come into anything? I got myself into an old school TT crouch and used my skills in that discipline to progress down the road, the road closure allowing me to take the best line through the long left hander before barely dabbing the brakes to turn onto a more main road again.
You could only describe the next couple of kilometres as a slog. The road engineers had clearly wanted to lessen the effects of the rolling Weserbergland countryside, a series of embankments and cuttings kept gradient numbers low, the downside was eratic wind patterns mitigated only slightly by roadside plantations. But I had clear road, sufficient to claim the neutral service shortly before the next turn.
A change of direction gave some relief from the wind as I skirted Bad Münder and started on a more rolling ride which felt less exposed even if the fields were still unbound by any form of windbreak. I risked a look behind as I approached yet another village, I still had the service but the peloton weren't too far behind. Question is, how far do I flog the horse?
Looking at the roadsigns i'd be joining the two one seven shortly, well I guess I should call it a day, its daft flogging away on these exposed roads. I was somewhat taken aback when the lead car took a right before the reaching the big junction. The road climbed up through the village then hooked a left to cross the dual carriageway by a bridge, before we turned onto a single track lane.
I could see the lane snaking along beside the main road, from being in a weak position tactically, I'm now playing with the full deck. Advantage Bond, a single rider can progress better than a bunch on roads like this, a grin took over my face as I settled down once more. The lane bounced over the countryside alongside the big road before it diverted to climb over a rail line after which another direction change lessened the impact of the invisible fiend.
After something like three kilometres the lane spat me out onto the main road, but not for long, my guides taking the next junction. Hey I recognise this, we came along here to get to Welliehausen last night which means we aren't far from Hameln. This new road started a very gradual climb, after a couple of K we turned left and started to climb more steeply up through some houses, it was only as I reached the top that I recalled Dad saying this was part of the circuit this morning.
I engaged hyper Bond, and quickly had my legs flailing around as I dropped back into Hameln. A few people cheered as I made my way around the town ring, I saw Kat but she was on the wrong side of the road so her words, I hope of encouragement were lost. One lap down, three to go, but am I going for the win or just some glory?
At least I'm not going into lap two almost blind like the first time around, I may not know all the little bits but I do have the lie of the land in my head. Not only that but I do now have the wind behind me, it wasn't as noticeable sat in the bunch but even as I traversed the streets of Hameln I could feel its presence. Ninety kilometres though, thats a fair way on your own, especially with a peloton who will no doubt be out for early season results.
Lets be realistic girl, sitting up now really would be a waste of my energies since that Springe place. On the other hand there is an intermediate sprint there, thats only about twenty kilometres which is entirely doable. Yeah that sounds like a plan, get to the sprint on my own then I can reassess things.
Decision made, I reached for more flapjack then took a sip from my bidon, little and often as my various coaches keep drumming away to me. Refuelled, I knuckled back down to the riding along the eastbound route one. Its strange what goes through your mind when you are out on your own like this, my mind drifted to geography lessons at Silverberg where Herr Bott did his best to teach us about such things.
Its sort of a European Route 66 between the Belgian coast and across to Poland and beyond all the way to Moscow, only the German bit which runs from Aachen, via Düsseldorf, Hameln and Brunswick to Berlin and on to cross the Polish border at the Oder is numbered One. Its not exactly a straight route but a lot of that is to avoid areas that in the past could be perilous and even difficult to cross, Upper Hesse for example would be a mare with horse drawn wagons. Of course, these days its been overtaken by autobahns but in places its still an important route.
I cleared the town and started the rolling ride towards the first climb of the lap, that draggy saddle. It might only be a two lane road but its still pretty wide and its trunk route status earns it regular maintenance, not least of which I was grateful for the road sweeping. Why you may ask, well the main carriageway is, whilst smooth, a quite open surface, inside the white line is much smoother, something I hadn't appreciated in the peloton last time along here.
I'm sure the chasers, I'm presuming I'm being chased, could see me on the wide sweeping bends at least, I didn't look, no point worrying at this point. The comp was reading forty, my heart rate in the low one eighties, which Dad reckons is a sweet spot, trying hard but not giving it a hundred percent, an effort you can keep going for a longer period.
The lump of higher ground crept closer, but with my elemental assistance I barely felt the gradient and remained, hands resting on the 'hoods, in as near time trial mode as a bike without tri-bars will allow. It didn't seem far or long enough but I was on the slight drop to that Copper, no Coppenbrügge place when one of the race motorbikes came alongside. Its not something we get often in junior races but I guess this is the big time, anyway i looked over at the chalk board and tried to decipher the message.
2 @ 1'07
pel +'34
In race speak it meant that I wasn't in immediate danger of being caught, the nearest riders being over a minute in arrears. Well thats good, if I can get over the big climb without losing too much I should get to Springe at the front. I gave the bike a nod of thanks and allowed myself a few metres of freewheeling before the turn under the schloss.
The contrast from Route One is pretty stark and being on my own as the route navigated the village explained why there was some bunching last time. No such issues this time as the Polizei waved me through the junctions which always brings a smile to my face. What are they thinking as they hold the traffic for maybe one or a swarm of bikes to safely pass?
I was soon back in my stride and riding along the avenue towards Patchdorf, well thats what I'm calling it anyhow. I've left smooth tarmac behind for a while – not that I'm dodging potholes exactly but L roads are just not maintained to the same levels. My speed dropped a couple of klicks, a combination of the slight incline and road surface, but I was still comfortable enough.
Two kilometres, slightly under three and a half minutes and the avenue was replaced by the first of the big farm buildings that dominate the village of Patchdorf. It might be patchy but the road is quite smooth so I dropped into a smaller sprocket again and had a bit of a dig through the village streets. This time through I actually saw a few people watching, I gave a little wave back to the three youngsters who were shouting themselves hoarse when I passed.
There was method in the effort, the twistier village roads meant i'd potentially be out of sight of the 'pursuivants', a couple of extra seconds will keep me out of sight longer when things do straighten which, and its not guaranteed, may deflate the chase a bit. Anyhow, I settled back down at the top of the village and dropped a gear to keep my momentum on the long ramp to the climb proper. Last time around I was just playing, this time its for real.
Somehow I held my nerve until almost the end of the straight but then I succumbed to a good look behind. I couldn't see the break, only the service bike marred my view but there, at the start of the avenue, was the peloton, definitely smaller than it started, I wonder how many that accident claimed. They were too far back to identify jerseys, it was just a mass of bodies backlit by flashing lights.
Is that one minute, two minutes, can't be more can it? I dropped into the small ring, double changing to keep the revs steady and set to on the climb. There were a few more spectators up through the trees, mostly what looked like cycling enthusiasts, probably club riders come to support local favourites or perhaps friends. Anyhow, they were generous in their encouragement but even so, the climb seemed to go on for ever.
But there it was, the sharp bend that marks the summit, I rolled through the corner before sitting up for a splash of liquid down the gullet, not that I had time to rest but its easy to end up choking if you are drinking while giving it some! Been there, got the t-shirt. I slipped the depleted bidon back in the cage and returned my attention to the task in hand.
The road rolled through the forest then burst into open farmland and another long straight which, if I recall has a tight turn at the end. Click, click and I was churning a bigger gear around, the comp suggesting I was doing about fifty kph with the last hurrah of tailwind. I think I caught the lead car a bit unaware as I was almost on his bumper when we got to the almost hairpin turn.
A couple of houses offered a little shelter before the wind found its mark, my speed dropping to mid twenties as i hunkered down to present as small a target as possible. It doesn't help that its a draggy climb either, I could almost sense the riders behind eating into my lead. A quick glance when the road turned gave me more confidence though, they actually seemed even further in arrears than before.
If memory serves, theres only a few kilometres to go to my target and some of that is downhill, yeah, I think I'll make it. The forest drew closer offering a little protection from the invisible menace as the change in road direction took the wind from almost direct head to something closer to full side and even on my left shoulder. The descent was nicer on my own, once again my smallest sprocket was employed, there was a dodgy moment when a gust through a field entrance caught me but I managed to hold it even if I did ease off a tad.
Under the dual carriageway then up into Springe, I could hear the PA system before I turned into the Marktplatz, news of my arrival being relayed to the watchers who had at least doubled from our first visit this morning. I sat up and tugged my jersey a bit straighter before crossing the line with an arm raised – we might not get the win today, well probably not but we wont leave empty handed.
Now what, do I press on or wait? What am I thinking, press on of course, for now at least. The next few kilometres though, were murder, the wind seemed stronger than last time, a combination of open fields and nagging climbs took their toll, there is no way I can keep this sort of effort going for even another half lap let alone two full circuits. The motorbike with the slate came up again, – pel +27, the end is nigh.
I wound my effort back a bit but even so i'd almost reached the singletrack before the rest of the race caught up to me, they must've been as glad as me, the speed dropped almost immediately or was that because of the sandy lane ahead?
I felt a hand on my back.
"Nice effort youngster.”
"Cheers.”
A couple more riders came through before Neet came alongside.
"Well that shook things up a bit.”
"You think? The others still about?”
"For now, it was quite a chase after that pile up, Gret was on elastic until we got down to Hameln.”
"She okay now?”
"Well she's sitting at the back of the group still but so's Amanda.”
"You got any flapjack left?”
The singletrack prevented too much movement in the bunch although those at the pointy end were driving us along at a goodly lick. As a result, when we hit the dual carriageway it was like everyone wanted to be at the front. Well i've had a good dose of that so I found myself trading revs with Gret and Manda.
"Thought you'd be away to the finish,” Mand opined.
"Too windy.”
"I don't believe it, Super Bond admitting she's human afterall,” Gret grinned.
"If I get cut do I not bleed – well something like that. So how're you two doing?”
"Could've done without that crash,” Gret noted.
"Neet said you were chasing for a long time.”
"Yeah, everytime I got on the back someone had a go at the front, nightmare.”
"I heard a few grumbles when they heard someone had attacked,” Mand stated, "You'd think it was a Sunday ride.”
"It is, sort of,” I pointed out.
We made the turn towards Welliehausen and the race tadpoled, time to get back towards the front. By the time we started the circuits last draggy climb the three of us were more safely in the middle of the fifty or so strong peloton, of the rest of the race I hadn't seen any sign. I hadn't seen Ron since I was returned to the pack but there she was, up at about fourth, fifth wheel, riding smoothly amongst her peers.
I reckon everyone was having similar thoughts as we descended into rat city, food. Riders were busily moving bottles and jersey contents about in anticipation of the feed, a health and safety violation if ever there was when you are careering downhill at over forty k's. Somehow everyone got to the bottom in one piece, the mass of two wheeled womanhood sweeping easily onto the ring to complete the lap.
Some things we practice seemingly ad infinitum, feeding is at the top of that list. On the face of it, its a simple job, helper holds up bag, rider grabs it, the problem comes when there are dozens of riders all trying to grab specific bags and all without losing the race momentum. And today, just to make things even easier, Kat has five of us on her own – nightmare.
We turned around the tourist information building and there they were, a forest of arms and bags waving at us, just finding the right arm will be a big enough challenge.
"I'll get 'em,” Mand volunteered.
"Be my guest.”
Gret and I moved across the road, out of the way, even then a stray bottle nearly took me down. There were riders heading all directions but somehow we cleared the pickup zone intact, Manda joining us with our lunch. Its not officially neutralised but its thought bad form to attack during this process and the womens peloton seem to be very keen on such traditions so, whilst we'd moved up the bunch during the process, everyone was sorting out their supplies rather than actually racing.
Neet and Ron? well they'd collected ahead of us mere jungere.
"Everyone okay?” Nita asked as the whole group cruised through Hamelns industrial zone after joining Route One again.
"I'll be better on the outside of these sandwiches,” Mand admitted before taking a chunk of Nutella® sandwich.
Yeah, its not all healthy sports nutrition, sometimes nothing but carbs and calories will do.
"How'd you think it'll go now?” I queried.
"Gut,” our captain started, "Probably stay together until the last lap, action on that hill then.”
"Thats how it went last year,” Ron agreed.
"Think I can manage that,” Gret stated.
"Works for me,” I added.
"Gab, can you let me know if you are doing something again, can't cover if we don't know.”
Thats me told off, "Sorry it was a bit spur of the moment, you know, when the crash happened.”
The five of us remained fairly close together, towards the front of affairs, as we headed along the tarmac of Route One, no chance of the smoother shoulder as part of this rolling carnival. After my eyeballs out effort a lap ago, it was verging on pleasant as we bowled along, heck, the sun was even threatening to make an appearance. Our speed was, according to my comp, a few kph slower than my solo lap but nevertheless, time seemed to pass more quickly.
The status quo remained intact all the way out to patchwork dorf when, with the circuits biggest climb looming ahead, a couple of girlies made a break for it and neither of them was me. There was a bit of hesiitation around us, one of the duo was with Trek so they wouldn't be chasing, the other had 'Krombacher' emblazoned across her backside so that rules out another couple from the bunch.
"Ron,” Neet called out .
Grönberg set off in pursuit which prompted one of the Aldi Sud girls to follow as well as a trio of others keen to either be in the move or close it down.
"Gab, Mand, watch the Trek.”
I'm usually on the receiving end of such support, it felt a bit weird not being the one heading into the fray. I couldn't really tell what was going on ahead, well I was doing my hawk and shadow stuff wasn't I? With the beer and bikes doing an anchor job, the escapees and their immediate pursuers soon had a reasonable gap but this wasn't supposed to happen until the last lap.
Of course, the roadblock can only last so long, and this ones breaking point was the steeper ramp into the forest. It was like ants on a honeyed stick, riders spread the width of the road giving their best to crack the blockage. The leaders now had their own anchors to contend with, if i'd been up there i'd have put another effort in but clearly these ladies were one shot wonders, by the summit corner the gap was down to a few bike lengths, the writing for this move was on the wall.
I caught Neets eye, "Sprint' I noiselessly mouthed.
She nodded and gave me the okay sign.
Maddy Bell © 04.05.2021
