Gaby Book 27 Smell of the Crowd by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2022 Madeline Bell Life has some certainties, birth and death of course, but the rest is a mix of Minestrone and Spaghetti, some of which we have no direct influence over. We can however decide whether we want Parmesan or other seasoning, we can give Gnochi a try, doesn't mean we'll like it but at least we'll know. Gaby has reached just such a point in her life, she knows she likes Pizza, she's not averse to Spaghetti or Lasagne but is Gnochi for her? The Gnochi in this case is doing the singing with BlauHase on a more serious level, as a 'hobby' its fine but could this be a change of career? Well you don't find out without trying so that's just what our heroine is about to find out in this, the 27th book of the Gaby saga.

 
It hadn’t seemed as tight, the corner by the nature reserve, from my memory of our earlier drive round the circuit. Our intrepid duo didn’t have much lead but enough that momentarily they were lost from view. Once around the corner though and it was a return to typical open upland, not a lot of shelter of any description but the wind was at least more on our left shoulders now.

Of course, the plan was not for Mand and Daz to go for the win, there’s too far to go, but instead we wanted to pull a bit of the sting from the peloton, keep their effort up now and they’ll have less in stock when we do make our move. To that end they were swapping effort time trial style, knocking out a steady forty K on the almost flat road. The rest of us did our anchor impersonations, its not up to us to chase, nope, if anyone else has designs on the trophy its them that need to do the work.

Having relinquished our positions on the front it wasn’t as easy to keep tabs on the pairs progress but a glimpse across the fields as we started the next bit of climbing suggested they had best part of thirty seconds on the chase.

"Okay Hen?” Josh enquired as I sipped from my bidon.
"Yeah, bit dehydrated.”
"Best keep an eye on that like.”
"Aye, I mean yeah, you think we’re gonna get wet?”
He looked over his shoulder, "Maybe a bit, it doesn’t look as black as it did.”
"Fingers crossed.”

We climbed into some mixed woodland, the gradient was slowing things but not dramatically so, the bunch held together It was only the added steepness of the next turn which broke the rhythm as riders variously searched for lower gears or stood to keep on top of what they were in. I was firmly in the latter category, glued to Josh’s wheel as I’ve done so often before.

The following ramp was only about six or seven percent which perversely saw the speed go up a tad before reaching the semi hairpin right hander that deposited us on the drag up to the top. The leaders were now in full view, they were closer but still far enough ahead to prevent identifying which was which. What goes up inevitably comes down, the road now headed pretty much dead straight down to Fladungen, the pace quickly rising as the more hopeful riders set about chasing Mand and Daz down.
 

The gap was closing but the leaders weren’t giving in too easily, they still had a couple of hundred metres in hand as we swung off the main road to pass through the old walled town. You no longer go through the actual gate which is probably just as well given our velocity through the turn, a sudden bunching for a narrow gateway would’ve almost certainly resulted in, at the very least, some hard braking. Past the church, back through the walls, a hard right and as we started the shallow climb out of the town the effort suddenly dropped as the sky blue jerseys were finally swallowed.

Did their efforts pull some of the pelotons sting? I guess we’ll have to wait to find out. The speed may have fallen from the near on fifty we were doing on the run into Fladungen but we were still rolling along in the high twenties, low thirties. Ahead of us, the heights of the Rother Kuppe didn’t as much loom above us as slump across the horizon. But that’s next time around, for now we have several kilometres of rolling farm land to cover.

It seems that we had inspired other parts of the bunch with our ‘failed’ escape, every time there was an up another hopeful or two tried their luck. We couldn’t hide now, each move needed to be covered and as the team to watch that meant we had to at least go through the motions. None of the flirtations with freedom came to anything and we soon passed the turn that we’d be making next time around.

Through Stetten then more of the same to Sondheim where we picked up the road back to Bischofsheim. The bunch seemed content to roll along now which suited us fine, no silly escape attempts meant no need to expend energy keeping a lid on things. The status quo remained for a handful of kilometres but there were signs of unrest.
 

I was feeling a lot better now, okay, maybe not a hundred percent but certainly a solid ninety five. Which was just as well, given what happened next. There was a slight rise as we left one of the villages that straddle this bit of the course and suddenly all hell broke loose.

Clearly there was some local knowledge thing going on, what I would consider the strongest riders of the day were out of the saddle and giving it some. We had to follow suit but caught slightly off guard meant that I was towards the back of the split. Over the top of the rise and you’d think it was the run in to the finish rather than the end of the first lap, it seemed like there were riders everywhere.

There was no chance to combine our efforts, everyone was occupied in just maintaining contact. One or two riders went backwards but gradually things settled enough for a new, smaller peloton to take form. The speed was still high but a selection had been made, the original eighty odd had been slimmed to about two dozen, the only girls left wore Apollinaris jerseys.

"Wasn’t expecting that,” Mand opined as we followed along in the wake of the action.
"What was that about?” Gret chimed in.
"Dunno,” I admitted, "Glad we weren’t too far back.”
"Yeah,” Mand agreed, "It woulda been goodnight Vienna alright.”
Tal put her ten cents in, "Lets hope we haven’t misread anything else.”
"Soon find out I guess.”

Josh dropped back to our little coven leaving Daz to marshal things closer to the front.

"Everyone okay?”
"Just about,” Gret allowed.
"Who needs bottles? Gab?”

There was a quick bidon check by everyone.

"I’m okay,” Mand supplied.
"I should probably get one,” I told him.
"Me too,” Tal added.
"Gret?”
"Think I’ll manage on what I have.”
"In that case can you and Manda ride herd through the town, who knows what this lot will do next.”
"We should probably all move up a bit if we can anyway,” I added.

The road dropped more steeply through fields that looked like they may once have grown vines, I recognised the underpass we flew under, not far back to the town now. A last short drop and we were indeed back in Bischofsheim, the pell mell descent eased and suddenly it was all squealing brakes and curses. The turn wasn’t quite a hairpin but it was pretty sharp, you couldn’t get through it safely with any real speed, hence all the commotion.
 

The bottle zone was only about fifty metres from the junction and luckily not too many riders were picking up. We each snatched our fresh bidons and with practised speed did the necessary swaps quick enough to drop the empties on the grass verge less than a hundred metres further on. Common sense seemed to have prevailed in that no one had made a move through the supposedly neutral zone but how long would that be the case?

For the third time today we passed under the two seven nine as once again we climbed away from Bischofsheim. So far the threat of rain had remained just that, a threat but the sky ahead was looking decidedly dodgy, if we get back dry I’ll be amazed. We climbed up through the trees, no less watchful than last time, with only about forty K remaining a determined escape could, in theory make it.

But no one seemed too keen to try their luck, the pace was comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, if our effort on the big climb doesn’t work there’re a few too many bodies here for comfort. I sidled up to our Road Captain for a war council.

"What d’ya reckon?”
"Feelin’ a bit claustrophobic?”
"A bit, if plan a doesn’t work…” I left the rest unsaid, we use English to keep our plans from the competition but we don’t have exclusive rights, no point in broadcasting our intentions.
"You thinking of choosing Quality Street?”

Before you go thinking Josh has lost his marbles, perhaps I should explain. Over the last couple of years we’ve, that is the guys on the team, we’ve developed a sort of code so we can discuss tactics quickly and easily and if we seem to be talking gibberish, well its an extra layer of secrecy. ‘Quality Street’ is code for making a selection, Manda came up with it, cool huh, even better it doesn’t translate, Qualitätsstraße is pretty meaningless, anyhow that’s enough of that.

"Uh huh.”
"Same as Daz?”
"The turn after?”
He nodded, "You want help?”
"We should keep our reserves.”
"I’ll spread word.”
 

Our fellow competitors seemed more than happy for the blue jerseys to set the pace, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that the Weltmeisterin wasn’t contributing. On we rolled, past where Daz and Mand jumped off last time round, you could almost feel the relief from the other riders. I surreptitiously dropped further back as I fed myself an energy bar, I don’t need the calories for this move but I’ll need them not long after.

As we moved into the trees the first heavy drops of rain started to fall, hmm, this could be to my advantage. The road surface was still dry enough to prevent spray but that changed rapidly as we exchanged trees for the scrubby Moor that lines the road as far as my departure point except...A quick flick of the gear control as I stood and go for it girl.

My support team obviously knew I would be making a move but even they didn’t know exactly where so when Turbo Bond shot past the whole bunch was caught unawares. I kept the effort going even as the rain came in harder, you can’t get into a proper time trial crouch of course but I did the best I could on this bike. The road was already starting to puddle when I made the turn, I held back on sprinting through the corner, don’t want to tempt fate with an off after all, but as soon as I was going straight and upright I applied extra welly.

Last time around the open fields up to the climb proper allowed views of the road ahead but in the half light and reduced visibility of this determined squall, well the only giveaway to my road position was the flashing lights on the lead car. The plan is simplicity itself, go like stink and force a reaction which, hopefully will result in Quality Street. Do it up a hill for maximum effect then slip back to the peloton down the other side, which move suggests you are a spent force – just remember what jersey I’m wearing though, snigger.

In the run of things, looking to see where the rest are won’t make a jot of difference to the outcome, even so I refrained from taking a losers look. I came off the drops to stamp up through the first turn, the wet running down the road in rivers, not pleasant but I’m already wet to the skin. I was actually clearing the last bend of the climb when, as suddenly as it started, the rain stopped.

Well it hadn’t actually stopped, I could see the rear guard of wet marching across the fields leaving a lot of water on the road. I started to ease my effort, the ploy has either worked or not, there’s no point wasting more energy than is strictly called for. Thankfully, apart from a particularly cold draught in the immediate wake of the wet, the wind was at least verging on warm and I swear I could feel the warmth of sunshine on my sodden back as I reached the summit.

I’m not one to waste free speed, so while I wasn’t exactly racing, I must admit to pushing it a bit on the descent, the peloton still hadn’t caught me when I made the sweeping turn into Fladungen Altstadt. It was almost a repeat of the previous lap in the end as I was finally swallowed up as we started the rolling ride towards Stetten and the turn for Rothe Kuppe.
 

Did my ploy reap the benefits we hoped for? Well sort of, numbers were reduced but unfortunately in the process we’d lost Gret. No I hadn’t burnt my team mate off, she’d fallen victim to a tyre deflation in the middle of the squall. At least that’s what Josh told me as once again we played uphill chase on every roll of the road.

"Yous gonna be okay for this hen?” Josh queried in a lull between stupids – if it didn’t work last lap, why would it this?
"Don’t worry about me, I’m not our only iron.”
"True but you’re our most reliable.”
"If you say so but I have been living it up this last week, so eggs and baskets.”
"Eggs and baskets,” he agreed.

The remaining distance to the turn passed quickly beneath our wheels, just minutes now until the main event. Fifteen of us made the turn, four of which were my team mates, the odds are in our favour well unless you take out the gender bit which I’m sure is what the opposition were working on. I tried to visualize the climb that we drove over four, no probably closer to five hours ago now.

The long ramp through the fields to the village where things started to get more serious, big lazy bends taking the road up to the Prime which bizarrely isn’t at the top. Nope, go for the prize, ease up and then you’ve got another K or so to grind to the top. Our plan is simple, ignore the prize and keep the pressure on over the top, at worst we lose more of the opposition, at best we end up duking it out between ourselves.

I know I told Josh not to worry about me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have doubts does it? What if the Rothe Kuppe is the scene of my dream or should that be nightmare? I took a pull on my bidon, bleh, the cap was gritty from the earlier downpour but I guess I’ve had worse.

Looking around the remains of the peloton it was clear that a couple of lads were planning something on the climb, the others all looked like they were waiting for someone else to make that first move but Dad had been adamant, that move shouldn’t be from us. The speed bled slowly away with no one yet willing to take point, we were hovering around twenty by the time we reached Roth, the village where it was all about to kick off.

We might not be starting the action but we each moved ourselves to cover any moves without causing a road block, after all we wanted them to attack us. Then it went a bit pear shaped, we and Dad had assumed we’d ride up the wide main road but as we reached the church the lead car shot across the road and we were directed to follow. What now? Have we mucked up big style?
 

I just shrugged when Mand caught my eye, I was as in the dark as anyone, well not quite anyone, it seems our fellow racers were aware of this detour. The lane joggled past a few houses before turning a bend and bam, a veritable wall of tarmac rose across the hillside. Our saving grace was the pre-emptive gear changing of our companions so whilst caught slightly on the hop we weren’t brought to a grinding halt by the grade.

The two lads I identified a few minutes ago had clearly been waiting for this and attacked the grade with gusto. One of the others made a half hearted attempt to follow but only succeeded in isolating himself between the leaders and the dozen heaving bodies following on. It was steeper than the other road by a lot but a half decent surface meant progress was relatively easy, the leaders had about fifty meters over the rest of us, I say rest, a couple were clearly struggling and in danger of being tailed off.

A steeper ‘lip’ joined us to another lane which was already angled steeper and our ascent thereof soon had riders strung over several tens of metres. The good news was its length, two hundred metres tops and we were thrown back out onto what I recognised as the ‘main’ road, I hope there are no more surprises like that. The two escapees had maybe seventy metres now, the lone chaser was swallowed within a few metres and when I checked around, Tal was dangling off the back.

It was a steady gradient on this ‘middle’ section and with two away, there was renewed urgency in the remains of the bunch. Whilst we weren’t going for the spot prize we still didn’t want the escapees to get too much clear road, they might actually play us at our own game. We joined in the chase, Josh pulling everyone along like a string of ducklings when he took a turn on the front.

Two against ten was never great odds and throw in Josh and the writing was on the wall. The leaders were giving it a good go though and whilst the gap was smaller, as we went into the second set of turns they still had clear road. From soaked through by the rain, I was now re-soaking my gear with perspiration, Daz and Josh spelling each other on the front, each pedal stroke inflicting more pain on those following.

When the inflatable marking the Prime came into view our remaining companions took off as if this was the end of the race. Daz looked around for instruction, I lifted a finger which was enough for him to give chase on our behalf. That doesn’t mean we’d given up, far from it, our remaining threesome kept steady, we were only about thirty metres behind the sprinters when we crossed the line.
 

Dad was right, once across the line they were, to a man, all freewheeling, sitting up, gasping for breath, we on the other hand just motored through, Daz sprinting to latch back onto the Apollinaris train. We would’ve got away with it too if it wasn’t for a couple of less able sprinters spotting what was going down. Two extra bodies made up for the loss of Tali and Gret, at the same time the odds were still stacked in our favour.

In the Sharan earlier, this top section seemed almost flat, well its hardly steep but it is draggy. We might’ve got the drop on the others at the Prime but we were going to have to work for our advantage. Our two recruits didn’t balk at joining our rotation which helped some and we were soon crossing the Heide that covers the top of the ‘mountain’.

From here its essentially all downhill, there’s nothing technical to negotiate so its no disadvantage having six of us. If, and its a big if, those behind recovered quickly enough from our steam through they could be six strong but could they organise themselves to chase us? No point in speculating, we still have a dozen kilometres before the finish.

The roads were still wet under the trees but we soon returned to open countryside which I was glad of, a surer grip at sixty plus kph is always a good thing. Any semblance of rotation was quickly forgotten, the now light wind pushed us down the slightly meandering road, each of us crouched low over the bars, pedalling more for balance than speed. The lead car started flashing lights all over the place, we needed to dump a lot of speed quickly!

Somehow we all avoided running into said car and made the turn onto the Bischofsheim road safely. Ten K to go, fifteen minutes tops, in theory the podium will be decided between the six of us but nothing is guaranteed, as I well know. Right on cue a pain started in my right calf, no, not now, not after all this effort.
 

Maddy Bell © 25.02.2022