It was just gone 0600, the sun wasn't even considering showing its horribly warm face around those frozen parts at any point in the near future, and it was still so very cold. at least the cold had got into everything now and warmth had been long forgotten, so it couldn't really get any colder.
With these cheery thoughts McAuliffe slogged up to make 'the exchange' with Richardson. He had told Tobin and Delaney that if they did decide to meet him for a lap after his, he would be an hour and half.
When Richardson appeared into the changeover area, he told him the same and Richardson looked mildly annoyed, probably because it meant he had to wait longer to get back out there and chase stick and dig holes.
Even though the party on the Fireroad was still going on, it did little to lift McAuliffe's broken spirit. Tiredness was one thing, but the shock of the head knock had left him reeling like a decent bouncer. Like a tailender waiting for the next ball, trying to guess if it was going break his toes or jaw, he chugged up the icy slope. He secretly hoped that he got a unplayable one that missed everything and ran away for 4 byes. But realising that not everyone appreciates a cricket analogy, he decided to stop for a comfort break. The joy of standing still for a minute was soon over and the lap had to be done, just because and also to re-release Richardson from the slips.
The rest of that 1hr 36mins of lap is not re-liveable, mostly because a lot of it doesn't actually appear in the memory, worryingly. The snippets that remain cover; hovering between giving up and walking, walking a bit, getting back on, the Flare light running out of power, getting sodding cramp, being terrified when a photographer stepped out from the darkness, sliding down descents with one foot out and the dropper fully down, terror, loads of people walking and it finally being over. Riding the last turns was not euphoric, there was no sense of achievement then, it was just a feeling that at least for him, it was over and that he hadn't done his best, which was fucking annoying. Before the dibber was even exchanged to a wild eyed and slavering Richardson, the decision to come back and exorcise some Damons, sorry demons, had been firmly made.
Wide eyed and relieved McAuliffe headed down the fire road in the stiff morning light, to Vander Camp Master to find out if Tobin had slept, if the fire had survived and if Delaney was still asleep. Once the car park to the hotel had been negotiated and the van door rounded, McAuliffe was gratified to see Tobin with a nice fire asking;
"what'll you have then?"
A cup of your finest minestrone tea please my good man...... After getting changed and leaving the awful smelling heap that was Delaney in the van dreaming and muttering about "GIANT FURRY WALRUSES" and headed up to the nice big warm tent to eat some bacon and to cheer Richardson on his way through to the 24 lap target.
It was just before 0800 and we had completed 19 laps, theoretically 24 was still on the cards, but it depended on the youthful strength of Richardson and if he really could be arsed. He was on lap 20 and had to start and finish lap 24, before 1000 and 1100.
In order to make the sitting in the warmth easier to bare, Tobin and McAuliffe had liberated £10 from Richardson’s wallet, to buy bacon sandwiches and tea. Well he didn’t need it now did he? We also liberated some porridge called FUEL or MAN or COCK or something daft. While suffering these luxuries, Tobin found the team lap split machine and live leader board. Reading through the solos and pairs lap number is awe inspiring, most of the top 5 in both categories were at least one or two laps ahead of us already, how do they do that, it’s incredible? In our own competition, Quads, we were 24th out of 139 teams, which was respectable we thought.
Sat clutching the lap splits and some testosterone porridge we were joined by a semi familiar figure. It turned out to be one of the poor sods from the motor-home across the way from our very own citadel.
Apparently their race had unravelled on the first lap with one of the team breaking the rear triangle of his alu Giant clean off, at the rear sus pivot on the fire road climb. Tobin’s screams of “STEEL IS REAL” and stood up finger pointing went down really well at this point of the conversation. After walking back to the van the poor lad had asked to borrow another team members bike (who was in bed with flu) but the ill member, had said that he would rather not loan his bike out…..So Giant man took it anyway and crashed it on his second lap, then he decided that he had bitten off more than he could chew and that was that for him. Two team mates down, our porridge buddy and his mate had gamely carried on before binning it just before 0800. He did say that our constant merriment from across the car park had been uplifting and very annoying in equal measure. The puffer really is a cruel mistress.
With the best intentions in the world, McAuliffe was never going to be able to stay awake to watch Richardson's progress and after the Richardson's first stop, where he ate some ‘trail mix’ (this just used to be called fruit and nut didn’t it ffs?) had a drink and then just belted it back up the fire road in full XC tuck, McAuliffe felt the calling of the wooden stairs. Leaving Tobin to hold the fort and bacon sandwiches. McAuliffe made it back to camp to find Delaney still asleep and moaning and the fire still burning. He nestled down in the driver’s seat and fell sound asleep with his head on the steering wheel.
Meanwhile Richardson was still popping in lap times that Delaney was literally dreaming about and Tobin was checking the quality of the bacon supplies and teabags while allocating the lap times to the team riders. Richardson was now on lap 21 and might just slip in under the 1000 lap start time, but I would be an ask as lap 23 would be his 3rd lap out there and even now the sun was ‘fully up’ i.e. pissing about behind some trees in the distance, it was still well below freezing. Richardson made it back to the exchange area just past 1000. He looked no different from when he started almost 24hrs ago.
A sterling effort by the young, fit, single, ugly, terrible human being. As more and riders finished and team mates, partners, dogs and secret lovers came out to welcome them, the carnival atmosphere returned and most were jubilant just to be done and to not to be dead. After some prevarication, Richardson showed a chink in his armour by confessing that even the course had got to him and that like many of his conquests, he had ended up sliding about going down around naughty bits sat on the top tube, both legs out of the stirrups. He also asked to go back to Field van camp master because he was cold. Tobin obliged by carrying him on his shoulders while the crowds cheered Richardson’s name. McAuliffe was still asleep, dreaming about bouncy castles and otters so the other three tidied up. Delaney now suddenly resurrected, was dancing around camp. Odd that the back injury eased just after the race was over….
With Camp packed up, the life giving fire was euthanized and the patio furniture was packed away. Finally McAuliffe was awoken as the three monkeys needed guidance and had no idea how to get their pants off their heads. The team opted not to go up to see the podiums, not because we didn’t want to but because trains and planes had to be caught and there was a blizzard already closing in on the Drumochter Pass, which McAuliffe and Delaney had to get over to get back to a roast dinner and beer. With a heavy heart and tired heads we made sure that we had erased all traces of us beig there, pushed the portaloo over and joined the queue leaving the Car Parks. Tobin and Richardson wanted to nip up to the big warm tent to buy some cheap USE lights and to check our final placings and after a 10 min wait we got down the road.
The front bench of the Mastervan was quiet, everyone reflecting on one hell of a weekend and what we had lost and gained during it. Tobin was wondering if the angry man from the beginning of the day had got around on a gear most of us would use for track league and Delaney was contemplating if the lad next to us, who quit half way, really did have hypothermia.
With the snow closing in the van deposited Tobin and Richardson at Inverness YHA, where they had to go to return one of Friday’s room keys and McAuliffe and Delaney crawled off into the snow to see if the pass was open.
The Puffer was over, but the tractors will be back.
Brixton Cycles Tractor Club/Outliers.cc finished 24th out of 139 in the Quads class and 35th overall, with 22 laps completed.
Lap times
Lap 1 - 53.57 - Tobin
Lap 2 - 57.49 - Richardson
Lap 3 - 1.08.07 - McAuliffe
Lap 4 - 1.02.43 - Delaney
Lap 5 - 55.07 - Tobin
Lap 6 - 53.39 - Richardson
Lap 7 - 1.08.40 - McAuliffe
Lap 8 - 1.05.40 - Delaney
Lap 9 - 1.01.00 - Tobin
Lap 10 - 58.34 - Tobin
Lap 11 - 56.35 - Richardson
Lap 12 - 01.05.47- Richardson
Lap 13 - 01.14.34 - McAuliffe
Lap 14 – 01.19.07 – McAuliffe
Lap 15 – 01.22.40 - Delaney
Lap 16 – 01.14.33 – Delaney
Lap 17 – 01.01.21 – Tobin
Lap 18 – 54.42 - Richardson
Lap 19 – 01.36.18 – McAuliffe
Lap 20 – 01.02.59 - Richardson
Lap 21 – 01.10.05 - Richardson
Lap 22 – 01.12.57 – Richardson
@Rob
It was just gone 0600, the sun wasn't even considering showing its horribly warm face around those frozen parts at any point in the near future, and it was still so very cold. at least the cold had got into everything now and warmth had been long forgotten, so it couldn't really get any colder.
With these cheery thoughts McAuliffe slogged up to make 'the exchange' with Richardson. He had told Tobin and Delaney that if they did decide to meet him for a lap after his, he would be an hour and half.
When Richardson appeared into the changeover area, he told him the same and Richardson looked mildly annoyed, probably because it meant he had to wait longer to get back out there and chase stick and dig holes.
Even though the party on the Fireroad was still going on, it did little to lift McAuliffe's broken spirit. Tiredness was one thing, but the shock of the head knock had left him reeling like a decent bouncer. Like a tailender waiting for the next ball, trying to guess if it was going break his toes or jaw, he chugged up the icy slope. He secretly hoped that he got a unplayable one that missed everything and ran away for 4 byes. But realising that not everyone appreciates a cricket analogy, he decided to stop for a comfort break. The joy of standing still for a minute was soon over and the lap had to be done, just because and also to re-release Richardson from the slips.
The rest of that 1hr 36mins of lap is not re-liveable, mostly because a lot of it doesn't actually appear in the memory, worryingly. The snippets that remain cover; hovering between giving up and walking, walking a bit, getting back on, the Flare light running out of power, getting sodding cramp, being terrified when a photographer stepped out from the darkness, sliding down descents with one foot out and the dropper fully down, terror, loads of people walking and it finally being over. Riding the last turns was not euphoric, there was no sense of achievement then, it was just a feeling that at least for him, it was over and that he hadn't done his best, which was fucking annoying. Before the dibber was even exchanged to a wild eyed and slavering Richardson, the decision to come back and exorcise some Damons, sorry demons, had been firmly made.
Wide eyed and relieved McAuliffe headed down the fire road in the stiff morning light, to Vander Camp Master to find out if Tobin had slept, if the fire had survived and if Delaney was still asleep. Once the car park to the hotel had been negotiated and the van door rounded, McAuliffe was gratified to see Tobin with a nice fire asking;
"what'll you have then?"
A cup of your finest minestrone tea please my good man...... After getting changed and leaving the awful smelling heap that was Delaney in the van dreaming and muttering about "GIANT FURRY WALRUSES" and headed up to the nice big warm tent to eat some bacon and to cheer Richardson on his way through to the 24 lap target.
It was just before 0800 and we had completed 19 laps, theoretically 24 was still on the cards, but it depended on the youthful strength of Richardson and if he really could be arsed. He was on lap 20 and had to start and finish lap 24, before 1000 and 1100.
In order to make the sitting in the warmth easier to bare, Tobin and McAuliffe had liberated £10 from Richardson’s wallet, to buy bacon sandwiches and tea. Well he didn’t need it now did he? We also liberated some porridge called FUEL or MAN or COCK or something daft. While suffering these luxuries, Tobin found the team lap split machine and live leader board. Reading through the solos and pairs lap number is awe inspiring, most of the top 5 in both categories were at least one or two laps ahead of us already, how do they do that, it’s incredible? In our own competition, Quads, we were 24th out of 139 teams, which was respectable we thought.
Sat clutching the lap splits and some testosterone porridge we were joined by a semi familiar figure. It turned out to be one of the poor sods from the motor-home across the way from our very own citadel.
Apparently their race had unravelled on the first lap with one of the team breaking the rear triangle of his alu Giant clean off, at the rear sus pivot on the fire road climb. Tobin’s screams of “STEEL IS REAL” and stood up finger pointing went down really well at this point of the conversation. After walking back to the van the poor lad had asked to borrow another team members bike (who was in bed with flu) but the ill member, had said that he would rather not loan his bike out…..So Giant man took it anyway and crashed it on his second lap, then he decided that he had bitten off more than he could chew and that was that for him. Two team mates down, our porridge buddy and his mate had gamely carried on before binning it just before 0800. He did say that our constant merriment from across the car park had been uplifting and very annoying in equal measure. The puffer really is a cruel mistress.
With the best intentions in the world, McAuliffe was never going to be able to stay awake to watch Richardson's progress and after the Richardson's first stop, where he ate some ‘trail mix’ (this just used to be called fruit and nut didn’t it ffs?) had a drink and then just belted it back up the fire road in full XC tuck, McAuliffe felt the calling of the wooden stairs. Leaving Tobin to hold the fort and bacon sandwiches. McAuliffe made it back to camp to find Delaney still asleep and moaning and the fire still burning. He nestled down in the driver’s seat and fell sound asleep with his head on the steering wheel.
Meanwhile Richardson was still popping in lap times that Delaney was literally dreaming about and Tobin was checking the quality of the bacon supplies and teabags while allocating the lap times to the team riders. Richardson was now on lap 21 and might just slip in under the 1000 lap start time, but I would be an ask as lap 23 would be his 3rd lap out there and even now the sun was ‘fully up’ i.e. pissing about behind some trees in the distance, it was still well below freezing. Richardson made it back to the exchange area just past 1000. He looked no different from when he started almost 24hrs ago.
A sterling effort by the young, fit, single, ugly, terrible human being. As more and riders finished and team mates, partners, dogs and secret lovers came out to welcome them, the carnival atmosphere returned and most were jubilant just to be done and to not to be dead. After some prevarication, Richardson showed a chink in his armour by confessing that even the course had got to him and that like many of his conquests, he had ended up sliding about going down around naughty bits sat on the top tube, both legs out of the stirrups. He also asked to go back to Field van camp master because he was cold. Tobin obliged by carrying him on his shoulders while the crowds cheered Richardson’s name. McAuliffe was still asleep, dreaming about bouncy castles and otters so the other three tidied up. Delaney now suddenly resurrected, was dancing around camp. Odd that the back injury eased just after the race was over….
With Camp packed up, the life giving fire was euthanized and the patio furniture was packed away. Finally McAuliffe was awoken as the three monkeys needed guidance and had no idea how to get their pants off their heads. The team opted not to go up to see the podiums, not because we didn’t want to but because trains and planes had to be caught and there was a blizzard already closing in on the Drumochter Pass, which McAuliffe and Delaney had to get over to get back to a roast dinner and beer. With a heavy heart and tired heads we made sure that we had erased all traces of us beig there, pushed the portaloo over and joined the queue leaving the Car Parks. Tobin and Richardson wanted to nip up to the big warm tent to buy some cheap USE lights and to check our final placings and after a 10 min wait we got down the road.
The front bench of the Mastervan was quiet, everyone reflecting on one hell of a weekend and what we had lost and gained during it. Tobin was wondering if the angry man from the beginning of the day had got around on a gear most of us would use for track league and Delaney was contemplating if the lad next to us, who quit half way, really did have hypothermia.
With the snow closing in the van deposited Tobin and Richardson at Inverness YHA, where they had to go to return one of Friday’s room keys and McAuliffe and Delaney crawled off into the snow to see if the pass was open.
The Puffer was over, but the tractors will be back.
Brixton Cycles Tractor Club/Outliers.cc finished 24th out of 139 in the Quads class and 35th overall, with 22 laps completed.
Lap times
Lap 1 - 53.57 - Tobin
Lap 2 - 57.49 - Richardson
Lap 3 - 1.08.07 - McAuliffe
Lap 4 - 1.02.43 - Delaney
Lap 5 - 55.07 - Tobin
Lap 6 - 53.39 - Richardson
Lap 7 - 1.08.40 - McAuliffe
Lap 8 - 1.05.40 - Delaney
Lap 9 - 1.01.00 - Tobin
Lap 10 - 58.34 - Tobin
Lap 11 - 56.35 - Richardson
Lap 12 - 01.05.47- Richardson
Lap 13 - 01.14.34 - McAuliffe
Lap 14 – 01.19.07 – McAuliffe
Lap 15 – 01.22.40 - Delaney
Lap 16 – 01.14.33 – Delaney
Lap 17 – 01.01.21 – Tobin
Lap 18 – 54.42 - Richardson
Lap 19 – 01.36.18 – McAuliffe
Lap 20 – 01.02.59 - Richardson
Lap 21 – 01.10.05 - Richardson
Lap 22 – 01.12.57 – Richardson
Total time elapsed - 24hrs 16mins 54s