‘Aching, covered in mud and the Aprilia’s taken a couple of falls’
hazardous, but without mud to clag my tyres, the Tuareg skips right over them.
The biggest issue is the dust. As riders pass me, I can’t see more than five feet in front – which is scary on the mountain passes, and even worse if their rear tyre pelts stones into your goggles. But even so, my terror begins to subside. I have no incidents on my second lap, but by my third, my wrists and back are starting to ache, causing me to lose concentration. As a result, I make a few silly mistakes and end up laying the bike down. I decide it’s enough and bring the bike in, then it’s a well-deserved cuppa while watching for Michael and steadying myself for round two.
During lunch, I discover I am 99th out of 150 after round one, but first in my class. Michael is 22nd and third in his class. But with round two around the corner, I’m determined to get around again… but only end up managing two laps as my body is no longer up to the job. The result of my efforts mean that I go up two spots to 97th - good enough for a post-race beer.
The evening is buzzing with riders descending on the central shed for food with a healthy side portion of chat. Riders discuss some of the harder parts of the course and laugh about silly incidents on track; and despite the sky darkening and the wind chilling the air, it’s exactly what I need to feel revitalised for round three the next day.
Round three
Dawn breaks and I discover our team of two is now a man down. Having had a very minor spill on the sighting lap yesterday, severe leg pain means Michael’s opting out of round three. (And for good reason, as we later discover he’s torn his quad muscle. Ouch!) And me? I’m broken physically, even struggling to pull my trousers on. The other fly in the ointment was that, thanks to overnight rain, the course features a new element – perilous mud.
As a result, the marshals had been out and changed the route to take out two of the grassy sections, but the first remained. By the time I get to it, it’s already carpeted with bikes, and I soon join them. Marshals pick up riders and bikes, and I make it through to discover the track is full of more gullies. As I dip into new troughs, I struggle to find traction (partly due to mud clogging the 50/50 bias tyres, but also because the Aprilia’s ‘off-road mode’ doesn’t switch off traction control completely). I estimate at least 50% of the competitors have helped push me out of gullies when I dig myself into a hole or get me upright when the front tyre mounts the sides. Yet all of them do so with smiles on their faces and no worries about their own lap times, along with comments of ‘that’s a bit of a beast to get around here’ while nodding towards the Aprilia. After two-and-a-half rounds riding it, I wholeheartedly agree!
I’m so exhausted it’s slightly emotional arriving back into the pits. I’m covered in mud, aching, and the Aprilia’s taken a couple of falls. So, I think it best to end there. I take comfort knowing that only two-thirds of the starters were still on track and from the 83 that started round three, I’ve come 77th.
I sit in the paddock watching mud-splattered competitors come past. Some head over to introduce themselves as my saviour in the gullies, all the while the even hardier riders put in more laps. There’s only one serious accident, a rider with a suspected collarbone break, which the on-site Extreme Medics handle quickly and easily. Otherwise, the vast majority come through unscathed.
When the flag fell, it was clear the race had taken its toll, but a few stay for the medal ceremony. There are 23 classes, with a male, female, and over 60s winner for each. Michael achieves 16th in his class (800999cc), and I’m first for mine (Lady, 650-800cc twin; we’ll ignore the fact I’m the only one in class) but the real achievement was when both Sweetlamb instructor Louise, and ‘man in charge’ Moly tell me I did a great job out there.
‘Rain means a new hazard… slippery mud’