BALDY’S DIARY
Pedalling down the first straight of stage one, I was unsure whether I should be sprinting like a demon or spinning casually. I went for the middle ground, turning the pedals over just enough to keep momentum and speed. As the trail descended, more technical sections took over and I found some flow. The track wound down off the top of a moor, through a quarry, over scree slopes and, finally, into the woods. I caught a glimpse of the finish and decided to sprint the last few metres – not because I needed the extra speed, but because I didn’t want to look slow in front of some of the UK’s fastest enduro riders!
Rewind an hour or so and I was still tucked up in my one-man tent, surrounded by 5,000 other bikers. Joe Rafferty, the main man behind the ’Ard Rock, had kindly put Al and me in the first wave of riders, due to set off at 7.45am. Although that meant an early start, it also meant an early finish and a free-flowing track with less chance of catching up with slower riders. But after slogging my way up climb number two, it became apparent that Al and I were going to be the ones causing blockages on course! Although he’s an Elite level downhill racer, he doesn’t train for enduro. And I’m a computer-operating desk jockey.
At the top of stage two it was all go. With a flat sprint off the line through damp marshland, I was blowing before the first turn. Thinking about the epic day ahead, I turned my effort down from 11 out of 10 to a comfortable seven
Although he’s an Elite level downhill racer, he doesn’t train for enduro. And I’m a computeroperating desk jockey
and cruised the rest of the trail, opting to pump and tuck for speed rather than sprint. I crossed the line stoked to have made it through in one piece, without puncturing. It was tough to get a sense of how I’d done, but while some riders were coming down breathing harder than a chainsmoking pensioner, I was fairly unruffled. When Bondy came in he looked like he’d pushed hard. His mechanical meant we had to part ways, and I started the long liaison to stage three alone. Before long I’d bumped into Hope’s Ian Austermhule, and rode with him for most of the day.
It was on the long transfer to stage five that disaster struck, when my abridged morning ritual came back to haunt me. Having fuelled up on Clif bars and muesli, my belly was feeling a little heavier and way more squiffy than I’d banked on. And I hadn’t packed any toilet paper. This left me with only one option. Finding a secluded spot in a disused quarry, I dropped my bib shorts and got down to business. Feeling two kilograms lighter, I scoured the arid ground for moss. This didn’t work too well, so, not wanting to lose any more time or sully any more flora, I decided to sacrifice my gloves. A few tactical folds later and I was good to go – minus gloves, of course.
Stages five and six were close to each other and made up the final few kilometres of the race. Luckily for me, my bike performed flawlessly, carrying me up the climbs and down the stages with little incident. To my surprise, the marshal at the end of stage six informed me that I was one of the first riders to cross the line. Glancing down at my GPS, I saw it had only taken me four-and-a-bit hours to complete the course. As I pulled back into the pit area, my results sheet was handed to me. I’d managed to wobble my way into 21st place overall and seventh in Masters – a result that I hadn’t expected, given that I hadn’t been giving it full effort on the downhill stages and how little racing I’d done over the previous five years.
The ’Ard Rock was a great introduction to enduro, but I now realise that if you want to be competitive in this type of racing, you need to give it your all on the timed sections, just like you would at a downhill race. Sandbagging isn’t an option! Maybe I’ll be back next year to try again…