“What are you doing?” a bleary eyed de Vreen enquired.
“Exercises,” I supplied as I concentrated on not letting my arms drop.
“Doesn’t look much like exercise to me,” she sleepily mentioned.
“Its Garde stuff, good for your concentration.”
“If you say so, you want the shower?”
I moved to ‘at arms’ before replying,“be my guest.”

Why am I really doing the Garde exercises? Well to be honest I couldn’t sleep, I woke up worrying about today’s Queen stage and as I was getting a bit antsy I thought they’d calm the grey matter a bit, seems to be doing the trick.

“All yours.”
“Eh?” I managed.
“Shower? Need to shake a leg if you want brekkie,” Mand suggested as she set about towelling her hair off.

Shake a leg? Why would I – oh bum! I guess you can get too relaxed.

“Front and centre ten minutes,” Caro advised the herd of breakfast browsers decorating ‘our’ tables in the hostel canteen.

Bang goes the third cup of caffeine then. There was a chorus of chair scraping and general complaint, pretty much everyone looked to be having a case of race day nerves. Oh I know, we’ve all ridden some pretty testing stuff both here in Spain as well as in Switzerland last year but today its all or bust, there’s no downhill to save the day if we climb poorly, pretty much everything will be decided today.

I drained the dregs from my coffee cup and followed the rest to go fetch my race bag. Yup, its another drive out to today’s stage, not far, maybe fifteen, twenty K, I think some teams are riding out but Dad decided we’d go by bus. I met Mand coming down the stairs.

“Here you go,” she told me swinging my bag at me.
“Er cheers,” I allowed catching hold and immediately going for the zip.
“I’ve already checked it.”
“’kay,” I sighed turning to follow her back down the stairs, well at least I can blame someone else if something’s missing.

“Right folks,” Dad started once we’d all found perches in the Hymer, “lets get down to business. Firstly, has anyone got anything to say about yesterday and where that leaves us? Jamie?”
“It was a right mess, we didn’t have a plan.”
“Mand?”
“Like Jamie said it turned into a right bun fight, we were all over the place.”
“Anyone else?” Pater enquired, there being no further opinions he went on, “so I think we all agree, we were close to losing everything, it was as much luck as anything that the competition were unable to capitalise on our misfortunes. I know we can’t plan for every eventuality but we should have a plan to follow if possible. Fortunately we do have an excuse to have both teams working together, Geth’s polka jersey and Gaby’s green jersey mean working together won’t look out of place. So pay attention, you all have roles to play if we are gonna bring home
the bacon, Caro?”

My god mother swapped places with Dad who in turn picked up the flip chart thingy.

“Okay, we don’t have much time,” Caro told us, “so here’s the plan.”

We completed the journey to the start in Ostiz, a place barely big enough to cope with the race caravan but clearly very enthusiastic about the race being here. Its going to be a hard day, three passes before the final ascent to the finish at some place called Azoleta hard on the French border. The plan is, no you’ll find out as we go along, never know who’s listening.

The sky is promising another hot day in the mountains although the forecast apparently suggested a chance of some wet later. Joy. Anyhow, departure time is fast approaching and I need to do the ol’ introduction thing beforehand – more joy.

“Not looking forward to this,” Sal admitted as we waited for the off.
“Me either,” I allowed.
“I thought you were into all these mountains?”
“Only when she feels like it,” Mand chipped in, “shoulda seen her this morning.”
“Mand,” I snapped.

Any escalation was halted by the minute to go whistle.

‘Paaarrrrp!’

Well this is it, a hundred odd kilometres of mountain madness. With a clatter of cleats on pedals our colourful peloton departed the tiny square, Ostiz has had its fifteen minutes and we start our four hours or so of purgatory. After yesterday everyone was watchful, anyone thinking of an early escape better think again.

The neutral zone only lasted until we joined the bypass just outside of the village and the climbing started pretty much immediately. Well okay its not so much climbing as an uphill trend but according to the race book we’ve got best bit of thirty kilometres before we cross the first pass and all of it slopes up. Looking around, everyone else seemed to be settling in for a steady start to the day.

As we started to track the Rio Ultzema up the valley we positioned ourselves as close to Dad and Caro’s instructions, as usual Josh was riding herd with me in the front half of the bunch but not at the front. Of the rest, most were further up the field, ostensibly to chase down any breakaways but mostly to keep the pace steady – well at least for now. Geth and Mikel were close by me and Josh, but not so close we’d all be involved in any tarmac kissing incident, that's the plan at least. And then there’s Vasquez, with such a small time gap its down to him to make the moves.

Whilst not straight, the road wasn’t particularly twisty either, not good for attacking on and with the Apollinaris / Schauff army guarding the head of affairs we got a steady enough ride along the valley. Forty five minutes in and we reached the first turn and from a steady climb we went straight into some stiffer action. The narrower road distanced us from the head of affairs a bit but that was the plan right?

Steeper yes but not yet out of the saddle steep, that’ll be further up. One good thing though was the trees, at eleven in the morning it was already mid twenties and the foliage offered welcome relief. One or two riders were already sliding backwards even at this pace and gradient and so our future programme could just work.

It was a still mostly intact peloton that passed through the first of the villages on the climb, not that the gradient let up at all. No, if anything it was starting to ramp up a bit, around us gears were dropped and a few experimental leg stretches suggested some of our fellow competitors were thinking about the mountain points available a couple of K above us. Of course our speed was now down to the teens, it’ll likely drop to single figures further up, the good news is that even a small increase can start causing issues further back.

Our combined troops were still just about keeping a lid on things as we entered the next village, the spotty jersey had made his way forward, marked by a couple of Curly Vasquez’ team. As we hit the next ramp the pace dropped quickly and Mikel pulled Geth away from the bunch quite quickly. Of course they weren’t the only escapees, a small group of about half a dozen slipped away, a couple more gave belated chase before Curly launched himself after them.

Well it was expected and Josh was ready, I was glued to his rear wheel as we started the pursuit. A pursuit made somewhat easier even on the ten percent plus slopes as Curly seemed to be not firing on all cylinders allowing us to tag on quite quickly. Most of the climb gave a good view ahead, maybe not so good for riding but it did mean we could see what was happening with the leaders all of a hundred metres ahead.

We weren’t actually trying to pull back Mikel and Geth but it doesn’t hurt to look like you are. The road twizzled about a bit and we lost sight of our quarry for a minute or so, a minute during which Geth set off to secure more spotty points. By the time we could see up the road again it was pretty much all over and whilst a couple of the escapees were pushing on into the descent, the Schauff jerseys were soft pedalling, job done.

The gap was swiftly closed and a small bunch of ‘contenders’ started the more technical drop together. Not that Dad wanted us to do much more than get down safely, time enough for heroics later. Of course its easy to get carried away when you are having fun and descending at speed is fun, net result was a close call on one of the ‘pins and the leaders caught well before we were off the mountain.

At the bottom we poured out onto a wider road with gradient still heading the right way, ie down and the pace remained relatively high.

“You get it?” I asked as Geth slipped alongside.
“Second, that little kid got a couple of lengths out of me.”
“Still good points,” I er, pointed out.
“I guess, still need a few more to tie it up,” he mentioned with a hint of doubt in his voice.
“Cinch,” I told him, ”we just have to stop short stop scoring.”
“Yeah.”

Three more summits and the finale, up to fifty points on the table, a breakaway group could mop most of those up and snatch the jersey, yep no chance of easing up on that effort.

It wasn’t far down the valley before the rest of the peloton came up to us, not so much sweeping us up as sucking us in. Of course we were back out under the glare of the almost midday sun, the heat quite evident after the rapid descent through the trees. As far as I could see all the gang are here so the plan is still intact, well I think it is.

“This looks familiar,” Lor suggested.
“You mean like hot and sun bleached,” I proposed.
“No silly, I’m sure I’ve seen that hotel place we just passed before.”

My head snapped round to look – well you do don’t you?

“The place with the motorbike?”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“Probably loads of ‘em, there’s that place up at Altenahr all the bikers go to.”
“With the same motorbike outside?”
I gave a shrug, “maybe.”
“Feed in about ten,” Josh told us as he joined our little enclave.
“Already? we’ve only done one climb.”
“Yeah but we’ll have about fifty done,” he mentioned.
“I guess,” I allowed.

We swept down the valley, no one in the bunch seemingly interested in making a move which was fine by me, every kilometre without action is another kilometre closer to the finish without extra effort – a state I’m all for. I took the opportunity to get some food down and empty a bidon, yes I know the feed station is coming up, you need somewhere to put the stuff you collect, well I’ll probably eat my sandwich straight off but you get the idea.

Gret and Daz moved forward, they’re on what Dad calls ‘Jankers’ today, that is food collection duty, Claire and Sal are doing the honours for Schauff. When the bunch is intact like today it makes sense, you risk fewer riders in the meleé and its easier for the ground crew too. Empty bottle in pocket, keep on the outside of the bunch, jobs a good ‘un.

It was as we passed a board suggesting the feed was a kilometre further on that we swept across a bridge into Santestaban, hang on didn’t we come through here on that mad training ride on Monday? So Lor was right about that hotel place then. Through the town, over a second bridge and out into more blasted countryside, a clutter of flags and parked vehicles marking the start of the feed zone.

Our catering department sprinted off the front to give themselves more space, pursued by several intense riders including Curly. It was comical really when musettes were claimed and with practised disdain and casual hands free skill they were sorted and slung over heads, the pursuers of the ‘break’ weren’t sure what to do. From my vantage at about twentieth wheel it was clear they thought we were breaking etiquette by attacking at the feed, I’m pretty sure none of them collected food parcels – hmm, useful.

“Here you go Gabs,” Darren slipped my bag off and passed it over.

Placing the strap around my neck I sat up to check and transfer the contents, cheese and tomato sarnie, fresh bottle of course and a selection of other easy to eat snacks plus, oh yeah a bag containing a handful of gummy bears. I poked a hole in that one and treated myself to a small sugar hit before finishing the transfer.

“You an’ them bear things,” Josh mentioned with a shake of his head.
“Well you have those glucose things,” I pointed out, “they are horrid.”
“If you say so hen, about five K to the next climb.”
“Oh joy,” I sighed.

Pass number two, tougher than the first and the climb Dad’s pinned as the likely spot for a concerted attack.

“Guess we’d best be ready for the action then, I’ll let you lose this,” I handed my musette off to him which he took with a wry grin and shake of his head.

Maddy Bell © 02.05.2018