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On The Edge by Maddy Bell
Copyright© 2021 Madeline Bell
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Pied Piper
I'm sure you all know the story that made Hameln famous, the rats, the Piper, the broken promise and the Pipers revenge. I remember, when I was little, being scared witless when the teacher read it to us, I don't think I even knew what a 'Pied Piper' was but I knew I didn't like them. I know its only a fairytale except, like many of the Grimms tales, it does have a kernel of truth in its origins.
Anyhow, thats by the by, the thing that always stuck with me was the whole piper leading the rats & children away from the town, the latter, if we are to believe the experts, into the same hills of the Weserburgerland that we are riding through today. What is she waffling on about I hear you ask, what drugs is she on, okay I'll get to the point. Last night, when we hashing through our options, which didn't include my solo lap by the way, we did come up with a set piece, ostensibly for the finale but who says we can't do a dry run now.
Neet variously signalled my team mates, who each eased their way forward as we headed for that tight turn. Around us, our peers seemed quite happy to have contained the escape attempt, from what i've gleaned over the years of following Mum's career, in the womens ranks once there is a successful escape the rest of the riders pretty much shut down their efforts, if the attack isn't over in a handful of kilometres, it'll likely succeed. Yeah, I know my solo attempt lasted over a lap but is was me failing rather than the rest chasing me down.
Anyhoo, we had this plan and we we're gonna give it a whirl for the second intermediate sprint. By now the sun was strong enough to cast shadows across the road, every ten metres a dark stripe angled across the road as we bowled towards the kick off point. I took my chance to take a decent pull on my bidon, hmm, might have to drop back to Dad to replenish once we've tried our skulduggery.
There was a general easing of effort as we entered the village, the rest of Apollinaris Mercedes were sitting top ten with me a few wheels adrift. I was still in the turn when Roni took a flier from the right hand kerb, yeah I was expecting it but those around me weren't, result consternation and panic. The other three jumped in behind her quickly followed by the more astute competition, by the time we returned to open fields, Roni truly was a modern day Pied Piper, a long string of bike riders strung along the road behind her.
To an outside observer, it would look like I was just along for the ride, tucked in about twentieth wheel as the race chased my friend towards Springe. In one sense I was but there's method in my positioning, keeping our light under a bushel, hiding in plain sight or any other metaphor you can think of, the competition will be worrying about whats happening at the pointy end, not back here. A couple of riders slipped backwards but tellingly, no one was moving forward, our tactic seems to be working.
The open fields kept the race in a long echelon, when I glanced behind I was apparently the tail, a gap had formed and the next group were already several metres in arrears. Whilst I couldn't really see what was happening at the front, I know what we discussed, the others would each be putting in big efforts to keep the speed high and the competition worried. Indeed, when we reached the bend at the top of the avenue, the pace increased a bit as the troublesome wind took on a more sidewards aspect.
I think the move was puzzling most of the opposition, they clearly needed to cover the Apollinaris 'attack' and they seem to be quite good at letting someone else do all the work. However in their excitement in getting a free ride they all seemed to have forgotten me sat at the back. Perhaps it was just an oversight, maybe they thought I was spent after my lap long escape, whichever it was it'll be their funeral as Dad would say.
It was only as we dropped towards the pseudo autobahn again that 'my' girls lost complete control of the front, however those that took over the lead were really just playing into our hands. I used the shelter of the peloton to take a few places free of effort on that descent, it was probably only when I lit the blue touchpaper as we started the rise into Springe that some of them cottoned on to our tactic.
The MC was going bananas when I turned into the Marktplatz, he'd got the crowd at a good boil, slapping the barriers and yelling encouragement. Not that I was taking a great deal of notice, all my thoughts were on getting to the line first. I sensed rather than saw someone coming up on my left, to tell the truth, my legs were on fire but I kept pushing, the bike bouncing a bit over the setts.
There was no margin for celebration – sprinting one oh one, never celebrate until you are certain of the result, even seasoned pro's have been known to fall for that one. The body, one of the Trek riders, came past me but not until I had taken the prize, oh yeah, Gaby Bond two, the rest nil! I let my momentum carry me for a bit as more riders came through, some clearly not realising the duplicity of Apollinaris even now.
"So?” Neet enquired as we regrouped on the road out of Springe.
"The Trek girl,” I paused to gulp from my bidon.
"Damn!”
"Let me finish.”
“'kay.”
"She was close but I had her for half a wheel!”
"So we shan't be leaving empty handed wahatever happens now,” Nita sighed.
"Well I'm pooped.”
"Not the only one,” Gret got out as she came alongside.
"What now Cap'n?” Mand chimed in from the other side.
"Get to the finish?”
"I'm up for that,” I allowed.
"Well I think we pulled a lot of fangs and no one's gonna be brave enough to attack with over forty K to go,” Ron opined.
"Or daft enough,” I mused.
"Come on Bond, what you thinking?” Manda chivvied.
"What if we sort of slowed things down on the singletrack, maybe someone or a couple of someones could slip off the front?”
"Okay,” Neet whispered across, "I'll buy it, you and?”
"Ut uh, not me i've done my time, how strong you feeling Ron?”
"Okay I guess.”
"Any other volunteers?” Nita enquired.
"I'm game, I guess,” Mand offered.
"Okay,” Neet stated, "Now all we need is to get back on the front.”
Of course, having a plan and being able to execute it are not always mutually acceptable, our success at putting this one into action was far from assured. We had a few kilometres of exposed road before the lane and I think it was a combination of the almost hundred kilometres in everyones legs and the desire to let someone else do the graft that turned things in our favour. We didn't do the swamp move that we had for the prime, instead we just integrated our selve into the loose rotation that was moving the race forward.
By the time we turned into the village that marked the start of the narrow section, things had calmed some and we were all pretty much together around third wheel. There seemed to be a fair bit of worried looking around in front of us so when I underbraked to turn over the dual carriageway, there was no real reaction. Like I say, get someone else to do the work.
We turned into the lane and started to ease the speed down, Ron and Mand sat in the more sheltered right hand wheel track, the rest of us doing our best to make it look like we were trying. I checked behind as we reached a low crest, the race was strung away behind us, neither the Aldi or Trek jerseys were in any profusion, it looked like the chance of a bit of rest was too good an invite to miss. Ron moved over which allowed Neet to drop in behind Manda, Gret taking her place.
The scene was set, on the next rise we put the plan into action. From behind us you'd be hard pressed to see that something was happening, with Gret and Neet supplying a reasonable block of the view ahead and me perioiodically swapping sides, the other two simply slipped off the front. A length, then two, the gap increased steadily until any pretense of elastic disappeared.
It was a bit spur of the moment, I flung my arm up, the universal sign for race service.
"What's up?” Nita requested.
"Front tyres getting a bit soft.”
"You want mine?”
"Nah, I'm shot anyhow.”
“'kay.”
The road is of course, barely wide enough for three bikes let alone any other traffic, my service requirement caused issues behind almost immediately as half the race needed to pass me in the space occupied by the rest of the race. Its not like I could get off the road, there was a good half metre high bank where I came to a halt and struggled to get off. The front group were finally past and when the service bike started to slow I waved him through.
Two smaller groups came through before the caravan reached me, when Dad stopped it effectively blocked the road.
"What's up,” Dieter asked as he clambered out.
"Slow front.”
He grabbed one of the spares and was quickly fixing it in place, I had already removed the original.
"There you go, be careful.”
Dieter pushed me along far enough for me to get clipped in, from car stop to moving, thirty seconds max.
The stoppage tho, gave me a chance to get my breath and the narrow lane gave me a helping hand to get back in the fray, whilst I couldn't get past anything, I could reasonably get a tow in the race traffic until I could get past. The railway bridge provided the opportunity to move up, being an extra half a car wider so I slipped through and within a few more meters was on the back of group three. And so my efforts to get back to the front started in earnest.
"She alright?” Dave asked as Dieter jumped back into the Saab's passenger seat.
"Seemed to be.”
"Well she's made an impression, so she shouldn't be too disapointed. What was up with the wheel?”
"Said it was going soft, feels okay to me though,” Dieter observed.
"Have to take her word I guess.”
They caught up to race number one, now tucked in behind the Aldi Sud team car, unable pass on the narrow road. Dave watched his daughter, she had to be tired but she was riding smoothly, certainly comfortably and whilst he'd followed her riding many times before, today she looked more, perhaps mature wasn't the right word, maybe supplese. In the cream senior team jersey she really did look like a smaller version of her mother, same stance on the bike, almost identical pedaling action, there was no doubt that she was her mothers daughter.
There wasn't really any neccesity for me to make the effort, to even finish the race, my competitive spirit however wouldn't have it any other way. I stayed in the 'back' group until we got to the Welliehausen road then set off on the wider, flatter tarmac to bridge the gap to the second, middle group. I had thought someone might join me in the effort but clearly none of them were interested.
The gap wasn't huge but it had increased through the single track lane, I could see them in the distance, perhaps as much as two minutes ahead, I got myself comfortable and dug in. I didn't seem to be making much impression but I was at least holding the gap along the valley, it was only when we turned onto the lap's final ascent that I seemed to make up some ground.
But not enough, I was still maybe four hundred metres adrift when they disapearred over the summit. Even amongst a field of women I'm still one of the smallest in the race, going downhill is never going to be my forte, unlike going up where less weight is good, going down I'm at something of a disadvantage. By the time I hit the level I'm sure i'd lost some ground again but I could see them further around the Ring when I reached it.
No musette this lap but I was able to grab a new bidon from Kat who shouted encouragement at my back. Last lap then, thirtyish kilometres, about an hour or so's riding. With the wind behind me I got into a tuck and snicked into a smaller sprocket, the gap to the thirty or so riders ahead started to come down quite quickly, well they weren't going all out whereas I was pretty much.
Even so, I didn't tag onto the tail of things for another couple of kilometres, and almost as promptly slipped off again on the first 'proper' climb along the One. Not a great place to be but I regained contact when they eased their effort over the top, making the extra effort to move several places away from being tail end Charlie. This lot did seem more interested in taking part, there was a bit of through and off going on at the pointy end of things, the difference between these and the front group was more luck than intent.
I checked my pockets, hmm, bit of flapjack, few dates, two gels, one energy bar and, yes, a dozen or so gummi bears, add in just over a bidon and a half of water and I should get back. Flapjack then, it might be a bit old school but its tasty and gives a steadier energy release than the dates and bars. It was still in my maw when, for the last time we turned off Route One to start the approach to the main climb once again.
The pace was comfortable, not that I had any intentions, but certainly, with the wind behind it would be a difficult job to escape this group. Along the avenue and into Patchdorf the pace remained just the wrong side of comfortable, it was only when I inadvertently found myself on the front, as we left the village, that I caught sight of the 'leading' group. I say leading, with any luck, Roni and Mand are still ahead, at worst they are in there with Gret and Neet.
Things always seem to concertina on the uphills, we seemed to gain rapidly on the bottom of the ramp and for sure, we did close the distance quite a bit, time though was probably much the same at perhaps ninety, a hundred seconds. It was only as they turned onto the steep incline into the forest that the first signs of doom or was it hope appeared. First one, then a second rider slid out the back, the pace and effort having proven too much for them.
A similar thing would no doubt impact our group shortly making it imperative to keep away from the back of the pack, however tempting it might be. Of course we quickly ate the road between the drop off's and ourselves, I was pleased that Gret wasn't one of them, climbing is not really her best ability, living and training on the Northern Plain doesn't give her, or Tali for that matter, much serious climbing practice.
Those going backwards caused group two to splinter as we ascended through the forest, someone picks the wrong wheel and suddenly you have a gap. At this distance I still couldn't identify riders but I could see some Apollinaris cream mixing with the smorgasbord of colour further up the road. As the grade eased towards the summit the distance stretched again, we aren't going to bridge yet, if at all.
Meanwhile just over a kilometre along the road.
"Can you see 'em?”
"Nothing,” Ron stated as she moved back across the road, "Its all down hill from here.”
"Hardly,” her companion scoffed, taking a slug from her bottle.
"Metaphorically,” Ron allowed.
"I never thought we'd actually stay away,” Mand mentioned.
"You couldn't bet on it, one week they'll chase anything into the ground, the next they just seem to forget there's anyone away, its much more aggressive in the low countries and the Italians, are...”
"Italian?”
"You know what I mean.”
"I though Gab might come up to us,” de Vreen noted.
"She's probably well tired after that lap on her own.”
"I'm not feeling that fresh myself.”
"But there are two of us. Come on, less talk, more riding.”
We were never going to make much impression on the wind assisted descent to 'that' corner of course, it might not be steep but its fast. We could see them ahead, like us, bums in the air, milking the road of every milligram of speed. Even here though, on the downhill, a few were being tailed off, if they are reduced enough, it gives us more chance of closing the gap.
We made the turn and for the last time formed echelons as we raced almost directly into the wind. I desperately wanted to fish in my pocket for a fig or two but I didn't dare the way the wind was buffeting us. Finally, after what felt like hours we turned, the flatter road some relief even as the wind continued to trouble us. The gap to group one was smaller but a solo crossing would be a big ask – even if I was fresh and after all, I don't need to be up there, do I?
"You think Gab's in there?” Gret queried as Neet came back through.
"I'm sure its one of our jerseys I can see.”
"Probably spitting feathers if I know Gab.”
"If she's there or not, she's had a good race,” Nita stated.
"Yeah, proper Rattenfänger!”
"I hope the others are okay,” Nita mused.
"If they get to the single road they'll bag it,” Gret whispered back with some confidence.
"Lets hope they get there then, Anna Koslowski is looking a bit itchy.”
"Who she?”
"Aldi Sud, long black hair?”
"Best make sure she doesn't get to scratch the itch then,” Gret grinned.
"I'll watch your back.”
Dropping into Springe was less frenetic this time, still fast but there was a more controlled purpose within the pack rather than chasing to stay in contact. The crowds on the Marktplatz were a little less vociferous this time, it was certainly more relaxed for me. Its still a good run to the finish so around me riders were taking on the last of their food stuffs, I finished my figs, there were only three, and crossed my fingers that they wouldn't do a repeat of that race last year – yeah I know, too much information.
I'm sure, when we were crossing those open fields again, that I could see the flashing lights at the head of the race. If it was, and if it was still Mand and Roni, they've got a significant lead, I won't say unassailable, that'd be tempting fate but i'd be reasonably comfortable with it at this stage in a race. On the other hand the dozen or so in the front peloton looked to have a less certain future, we outnumber them almost two to one, we just need to get our metaphoric fingers out.
Maddy Bell © 05.05.2021
