It hardly seemed like five minutes after Max’s departure before de Vreen rolled up to the kiosk.

“You early or am I running late?”
“What do you think?”
“Sugar! How long have I got?” I requested in something of a panic.
“She’s winding you up Gab,” Con chuckled, “you’ve got like forty minutes yet.”
“Gotcha,” Mand smirked.
“Why you!”
“Any chance of a coffee?”

I checked the time on my computer for about fifth time, “they’re late.”
“Traffic?” Mand suggested, “so your dad mentioned a special session earlier, any idea what?”
“Well he’s roped Max and his Mofa in, he’s meeting us down the road, so I’m guessing some sort of motor pacing.”
“What for?”
“Search me, sure he’s got his reasons.”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough, you didn’t half get a tan last week.”
“Its not like I was laid out like Pia and Bridg.”
“Guess you get a head start for next week, a whole week in Spain.”
“It’ll probably rain,” I suggested.
“That’d be my luck,” Mand allowed with a sigh.
“Ah, here they come, time for action.”

We pushed off and by the time the rest of the BC / Apollinaris squad caught up to us we were clipped in and over the level crossing.

“Who’s the new girl Mand?” Gret called out.
“Dunno, she was at the side of the road and just tagged on,” Mand called back.

Eh? I checked behind, I never saw anyone.

“Dur,” Tal mentioned, “they’re talking about you Bond.”
“Ha, ha,” I supplied without humour.
“Where ya been Bond?” Cav enquired.
“Holiday?” I suggested.
"Alright for some,” Daz opined.
“So what’s the crack?” Mand asked as we turned towards Adenau.
“Up through the forest like, we’re to meet him and the others on some lay-by at some Kemp place,” Josh supplied.
“Kempenich,” I mentioned.
“Aye that's it Bond.”

Well I do have a little inside information.

“Did he say what this special training is then?”
“Caro was getting the moped ready earlier,” Geth volunteered.
“Wondered why she didn’t come in the bus,” Cav noted.

We rode piano up to Ahrbrück where we turned towards Kesseling and the road that’ll eventually take us over the top to Kempenich. Its a fairly steady ride for the most part, well there’s a steeper bit up near Marts place in Staffel and another up to Watzel. Josh seemed to be in charge, keeping us at a steady eighteen – twenty kph, talking speed when climbing and it seemed like no time at all getting to the summit, twenty five k’s from the kiosk.

The descent down through Cassel, well we had a bit of a chase down into the parched fields and scrubby woodland. When we reached the main road we reassembled, well we had to wait to cross the road anyhow. Dad and his crew were waiting for us less than half a K further on, Max and Caro on their motorised two wheelers, Dad with the Hymer.

“Everything okay?”

We mumbled agreement, well we were mostly drinking or eating.

“Right,” Dad went on, “next week in Spain some of the roads are, to quote the road book, ‘unmade surface’.”
“Farm tracks Mr Bond?” Josh suggested.
“Possibly Josh but probably, hopefully, better than that but certainly not tarmac.”
“Like in Bavaria Dad?”
“Without the puddles with any luck,” Dad grinned back.
“Bavaria?” Sal queried.
“Nationals,” Gret supplied.
“So this afternoon we’re going to try and give you some experience so you don’t go into it cold,” Dad told us, “I know a couple of you have done some cross and mountain biking, you’ll have a head start but I want everyone to feel confident to tackle it when you hit it in Spain next week. I’ll split you into two groups, those with some experience will go with myself and Max here, the rest of you will be with Caro and Mike, clear?”
“Er where’re we going?” Cav queried.
“Sorry, there’re some dirt roads we’ll use up on the hill there, its not a lot so we’ll be up and down a bit. Right, lets get moving.”

It was a short, mostly uphill ride on tarmac up to the hill top that Dad had pointed out from below. The no through road and no car signs as we turned off the tarmac were ominous.

“Okay, no heroics,” Dad instructed as we started picking along the broken surface, “steady pace, concentrate on where you’re going, try to avoid any big stones and potholes.”

Its something of a balancing act, riding on unmade surfaces, a good pace smooth's things out, just like cobbles, but too much speed and you lose some of the control to avoid stuff. Oh I know on mountain bikes you can just charge over stuff but we’re on road bikes with skinny tyres with no tread. Our group consists of me, Gret, Tali, Cav, Sal and Geth, all of us having experience on these sort of surfaces, Sal used to do mountain biking, the rest of us have experience from races and of course I’ve done cross.

Max, with Dad riding pillion followed us down the lane as we all adapted to the surface, it was a bit dodgy through the trees but once out into fields again we were soon getting along quite well. Sal was the surprise, her MTB skills seeing her catching air and taking lines the rest of us were less sure of. The ruins of Ohlbruck Castle appeared ahead of us, the bright white tower standing out vividly against the blue sky, glad we’re not riding up to that.

“Yee-ha!” Sal shouted out as she did a high speed bunny hop back onto the tarmac above Hain, someones enjoying themselves.

We pulled up when we got to the village and let the Mofa catch up to us.

“Intense!” Sal enthused.
“My arms are killing,” Geth moaned.
“Don’t get too giddy,” Dad opined, “that was only a couple of kilometres, next week will be longer and there's uphill too. So we’ll do a loop around the village and go back up to the top.”

Urgh, there had to be catch.

And so the pattern was set, we climbed back up to the top, somewhat slower than the downward trip, passing the others on the way, more carefully picking their way down. Keeping a good line is easier going up but my thighs were burning by the time we reached the top again. This time we went down the road, I recognised where we were a bit more when we crossed the Vulkan Express rail lines on the way down.

Then it was up again, there’s no let up from Oberzissen up to Hain, Sal and Gret dropped off the pace and Cav was puffing a bit by the time we reached the dirt again. At the top I was more than grateful to stop and recover a bit while we waited for the stragglers and the Mofa to arrive. They weren’t that far behind to be fair, arriving in a cloud of dust.

“Good riding people,” Dad advised, “one more round and we’re done.”
“Down the road?” I queried.
“No, on the dirt kiddo, I need to have a word with Caro so we’ll stay here, be careful going down, we don’t want to have the paramedics out eh?”

The six of us set off once the late comers were recovered, after negotiating the woodland I stepped up the pace only to have Sal come whooping past – mad! There was no stopping at the bottom this time, we went straight into a circuit of the village – Sal was well out of sight by now. The rest of us were fairly close however and we hit the dirt again at a good lick.

The uphill was the breaker of course, I pushed the pace and only Geth could hold my wheel. Ahead, Sal returned to view but whilst she’s not the worlds greatest climber, even I could see her technique on the loose surface was good and catching her was a slow drawn out affair. In the end she ran out of juice as we reached the trees allowing me and my shadow to quickly close the remaining gap.

Geth made a break for freedom as we caught her, maybe without it she’d have got on but the sudden increase in pace killed that. I chased after the Welshman who in turn blew not much further up the track, I clicked down a gear and made my own move. A bit of wheelspin put me back in the saddle, the rattle of bouncing chains slowly faded behind and I allowed myself a quick squirt from my bidon.

Getting the bottle out is one thing, putting it back when the bike’s bouncing about and you need two hands on the bars, well a potential recipe for disaster – worth remembering. I emerged at the top awkwardly gripping the bottle and my lever which made pulling the brake on a bit interesting! The beginners class were all slumped over their bikes when I got to the top, goodness knows where they’ve been as I’ve not seen them since that first pass.

“Catch me!” I shouted in a bit of a panic, dropping the bottle and making a grab for the brake lever.

Dad and Max both made a grab for me as I almost toppled over as I skidded to a halt. Pater got the drop although I was at almost ninety degress to vertical before I stopped moving.

“Nice catch man!” Josh stated as Max helped Dad pull me back to the vertical.
“Close call Gab,” Mand offered.
“Cheers Dad,” I allowed as I unclipped.

Geth puffed up, pausing briefly to pick up my dropped bidon.

“Here you go.”
”Cheers, where’s Sal?”
“She was right behind me.”

In the end she arrived with the remainder of our group having had a bottle episode of her own.

“Okay people, good session,” Dad started, “we don’t want to dwell on this aspect too much but hopefully you’re all a bit more confident and you won’t be surprised next week. Now I’m sure you’re all ready for your dinners, I know I am so lets get back down to the bus and we’re done.”

“Urgh,” I complained having peeled my jersey off. A dirty tide mark of sweat and dust surrounded my bra, I can only imagine where else the dirt has gotten itself.
“Here,” Mand threw a towel across to me, “my hair’s full of it too.”
“Ditto.”
“You two ready?” Dad enquired joining us in the camper having helped load the others bikes into the BC van.
“Yeah, where’s Max?”
“He set straight off back, it took him over an hour to get here, I did offer to take him back but he said something about seeing Martin?”
“Preiser, Bern’s boyfriend,” I supplied, guess the vineyards out then.

The Hymer chuckled into life and after a toot of the horn we were on our way back to the Ahrtal.

“Get yourselves showered,” Dad instructed when we arrived back at Bond Acres, “I’ll ring Helmut, we’ll go eat at the Stube okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” Mand agreed.
“As long as I’m not cooking I’m in,” I added.
“Thats settled then, so scoot.”

That dust really had got to places best not mentioned in polite company, there was a drift of sandy deposits on the floor of the shower when I was done. I had to wash my hair twice to get rid of the grit – goodness knows how much is stuck on the bikes. Not my problem, I have a man who does!

Maddy Bell © 06.02.2018