Gaby Book 26 On The Edge by Maddy Bell Copyright© 2021 Madeline Bell Seventeen - it's a birthday overshadowed by its predecessor and successor and Gaby's looks set to follow that pattern. There are however big decisions to be made, should she grab life by the horns and experience everything it has to offer or take the more conservative, safer route through life. This volume, the 26th in the Gaby series has all the elements of classic Gaby, bike riding, teenage angst, developing relationships, grist to the mill for our heroine as life in the Ahrtal ticks on.

 
The 'race' wasn't until midday but even so, the race team, ie me and Tina, were sat in the team bus waiting for George to appear not much after eight. It was a bit surreal, just the two of us and our bikes in the back, Mike and Petra up front, add in the Boss and the support team outnumber the riders! Not that I'm complaining, but Dad usually has to be driver, mechanic and masseuse on his own for six of us – well unless Gret's parents are along or he can arm twist Angela to help out.

I picked at the leg of my skinsuit, yep, today isn't long enough to need pockets for food, fluids yes but we won't be riding long enough to metabolise solids. I was admiring the contrast between my tanned leg and the white spandex when the bus rocked with the arrival of George.

"Ready Bossman?” Mike enquired.
"Lets go,” George agreed.

Mike was driving which I was kind of glad about, George has a tendency to drive like Mum, think Fast & Furious and I rather fancied keeping my breakfast.

"Looking forward?” Tina queried as we descended the hill from the hotel.
"Sort of.”
"Only sort of? I thought you'd be excited to be taking part in such a prestige event.”
"I am but its a bit scary too,” I admitted.
"The famous double Weltmeisterin scared? I don't believe it.”
"But thats just it, everyone is expecting me to perform today, but what if I can't, what if my best isn't good enough?”
"Gaby Bond, i've known you for what, four years? You have never not performed when it matters, you give a hundred and ten percent just like your mama so less of the self doubt eh.”
"Yeah but thats against other Jungere, there's like top Pro's riding today.”
"Some of which are not that much older than you,” Tina pointed out.
"But...”
"But nothing, you'll be fine.”
"You two okay back there?” George enquired from up front.
"Sure Boss, just talking tactics.”
"Ha, start fast then go faster eh!” he chortled.
"Something like that,” Tina returned.

 
Of course, from Puerto de la Cruz to the start of todays effort is either a long loop around the coast or a trip through Teide on the same road we used the other day, as we wanted to get there in reasonable time, the autobahn won out. I'm not sure it was a lot quicker by the time we'd covered the extra kilometres, it was knocking on ten when we reached the makeshift event HQ. I say makeshift, it was actually quite pro, team parking in the public car park and an event 'village' on the plaza next to Vilaflors main religious building.

We were far from the first to arrive, nor the last, Mike getting us parked between an anonymous Seat Alhambra and a big Volvo estate sporting a full on pro team roof rack emblazoned with 'Pinarello Racing Team' in a garish purple against the cars black paint.

"Okay girls,” George turned in his seat to address us, "Petra'll go with you to sort out the paperwork, espresso for me, Mike?”
"Usual please.”

Great, now we're waitresses too.

"Come on you two,” Petra chivvied, "Leave them to it, licence Gaby?”

Look, I know I can be a bit of a ditz but one thing I do not forget is my racing licence!

"Dad?”
"Your mum,” she advised.

You'd think I was a little kid.

 
It wasn't far to the 'village', the race HQ that is, maybe a hundred and fifty metres, a distance which took but a couple of minutes to cross. I was a bit surprised to see a couple of Eurosport TV trucks amongst the array of marquees and Ezyups providing shade for the various facilities that seem to be a requirement at any big event these days. There were of course lots of people milling about, officials, riders, the merely curious, chatting, drinking, well just normal stuff I guess.

I spotted a sign for 'Kontrol' and started in that direction.

"Where're you off to Gab?”
"Eh, to sign on?”
"Not yet, got to sort your entries first,” Pet advised.
"I thought we were invited? We've made all this effort and we aren't even entered?”
"Welcome to our world,” Tina stated.
"Come on, the Buro is over here,” Petra told us.
"So we get invited but we aren't actually entered?” I quizzed.
"Its mostly these smaller events,” Tina replied, "You get an invite, we accept so we are on the sheet but Pet or George have to do the dirty when we arrive.”
"Dirty?”
"She means the paperwork Gab,” Pet put in waving the envelope in her hand.
"And paying the entries,” Tina added.
"Paying?”
"Well you don't think we race for free do you?”

To be honest i'd never given it much, no, any thought. I guess Dad sorts out all that stuff, I just sign on the dotted line, hand over my licence and race. I can sort of see why it might be different for the seniors, more teams chasing rides, it could get a bit out of hand for high profile events. We soon joined a short queue of other team officials waiting to pay their dues in the buro.

 
"Okay, you two get signed on, I'll get the coffee,” Pet suggested.
"See if you can grab some biscotti,” Tina requested.
"If they've got any.”
"Come on Gab's, time to flash that licence.”

It was a bit weird at the Kontrol, queuing up with a mostly male, mostly senior level riders, neither Tina nor myself are exactly tall, okay, we're short, a lot of our fellow competitors today are like half a metre taller than us, intimidating, much. Sometimes I wish I was a bit taller but my lot seems to be as the shortest of any group I'm associated with but of course, great things come in small packages.

They were making quite a show of the sign on today, the official exchange of licence and signature first and then we joined a second queue to be introduced and sign one of those perspex affairs for Eurosport. Joy.

"Smile Gab.”
"If I must,” I sighed before switching on a cheerful grin.

I followed Tina up the couple of steps onto the stage .

"Well we've already seen the current Masters World Champion sign on, we now have the current double junior girls World Champion, and German national champion, Gabrielle Bond and her Apollinaris team colleague, Tina Porsche!”

There was a smattering of applause from the small peanut gallery, well this is mostly for TV, which I acknowledged with a little wave before taking my turn at the board.

"So Gabrielle,” the MC started once we'd cleared the signing board, "How is the training camp going?”
"Well I think, the whole team are looking pretty sharp.”
"And today, your chances, it is a quite select field?”
"When our director said he wanted me to ride I was a bit unsure to be honest but I think the bands will be honoured.”
"Thank you, Gabrielle Bond, Team Apollinaris, at seventeen already a three time World Champion.”

 
"The whole team are looking pretty sharp,” Tina chuckled, mimicking my reply to the Eurosport inquisition.
"Well what was I supposed to say?” I countered as we made our way back to the bus.
"Dunno, you certainly didn't give anything away.

 
"Fecking hell Keith!”
"Mal, Mal, calm down, I know what Phil said last week but we're not exactly World Tour are we?”
"Ah guess you're right.”
"Look, we've got just over an 'our, I'll see if I can borrow one, get changed, do your warm up and stop fretting.”

The argument in heavily accented English, was in full flow at the side of the Volvo as we returned to the bus. Clearly the younger of the two had some issue with the black Pinarello Dogma leant against the car. English then, somewhere in the back of my noggin there was a hint of recognition of the older chap, Keith was it?

Of course, our own steeds were set up on the turbo's under the Ezyup ready for our own warm up, I smiled again at my sparkly steed, i've come a long way from using Mum's hand me downs.
 

"Er excuse me.”

I looked up to find the harassed 'Keith'.

"Does anyone sprechen English?”
"A little,” I allowed.
"Great, look I was wondering if you guys might have a thirty six chainring we could borrow, not many people are on Campag but I see you guys are, Mally's bike was s'posed to 'ave one but its arrived with a thirty nine, Keith by the way.”
"Mike, you got a minute?”

Our spanner man poked his head out of the buses rear door.

"What's up Gab? That rear mech still a bit off?”
"No its fine, Keith here's on the scrounge.”
"For what?”
"Mike's our mechanic Keith, he might have something in his box.”

His face lit up which is when I recognised him, of course I know him, Keith Lambert, he gave us a talk when I was with BC in Manchester the other year, he was a pro before I was born.

"Cheers, Mally can be a bit of a prima, but he's a reet lad, thanks lass.”

"How to make friends and influence people,” Tina smirked.
"Its only what Mum or Dad would do.”
"I wasn't having a go Gab, even the mighty George has had to go on the scrounge a few times.”
"Talking of which, where is he?”
"Pressing hands no doubt, there's bound to be contacts here, a good show here might open a few doors.”
"Right.”
"So, you know this English?” she nodded toward where Mike and Keith were looking at 'Mals' bike.
"Sort of, he used to be a pro back when Mum was first racing, I met him at that thing in Manchester.”
"Don't think he recognised you.”
"I've changed a bit since then.”
"Yeah, you're even prettier and curvier.”
"Teen, you do talk some rot!”
"If I do so does your mutter.”
"She never said that.”
"Maybe not exactly those words.”
 

"Five, four, three, two, one.”

PAARP!

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click, several dozen shoes snapped onto pedals as the 2007 Mount Teide Challenge got underway. When I say underway, we have a kilometre of neutral zone down through the village before we join the TF21 and the race starts with a vengeance.

Starts are always a bit nervy but at least these roads were well surfaced and fairly wide which meant there was room for a couple of little un's to slip forward from our start position some fifty odd riders from the front. George might've been joking about the tactics for today earlier but in truth he wasn't far wrong, if you lose contact with the front your chances of getting back are small. What doesn't help is that there are potentially a lot of 'ringers' in todays peloton, being a big name pro won't give you any more advantage than a front row start.

I spotted Senor Contador, seems his was a popular wheel as 'Mal' from the car park was tucked in a couple of wheels back too. The pointy end of things was however loaded with a handy looking selection of pro team jerseys, young men full of confidence in their abilities. I know there were some other ladies taking part, I saw them earlier but by the time we got the green flag, they'd already said sayonara to any hopes of being in contention.

When we rode up the other day, it was quite well measured, our own pace but today, well people had points to make, the speed ratcheted up to silly in no minutes flat. By the time we reached the top of the village again the first selection had been made, I wont lie, thirty kph up hill does not come easy, I was well pleased to still be with the 'big' boys when things eased off a little.

Tina wasn't quite so lucky but a quick look back on the long left hand approach to the first 'pin found her cream jersey sat amongst the next group maybe fifty metres behind. Obviously, during the week we've discussed how things might go, whether the right approach is a solo attack or a more conservative approach, against these senior men my chances of a solo attack working are small to non existent. A watching brief it is for now then.
 

The pace may have dropped after the initial surge but it was still the high end of the twenties, any ideas of this being a 'fun' event were left back in Vilaflors. I'm pretty sure that my continuing presence was a surprise to some of my companions but lets face it, I didn't get the right to wear the rainbow bands from riding at the back. It was only when I moved up a bit through the second hairpin that I realised that the English was also wearing a rainbow jersey, not as flash as mine, well I'm quite biased but I'm guessing that must mean he was the Masters champion the MC mentioned earlier. Like I said, you don't get to be a champ without putting it out there, kudos Mal.

Alberto, Senor Contador, was looking fairly comfortable, when he spotted me I got a short nod of recognition, I might only be a seventeen year old girl but heck, for now at least I'm mixing it with the big boys. Turn three, four and the longest straight of the day angled up through the trees, there seemed to be a loose collaboration driving our group, I think most of us made a showing at the pointy end even if we couldn't offer a great deal. There were a couple avoiding the front, I wasn't the only one keeping a watch on them.

The move, when it came, was therefore not that much of a surprise.

"Feck!”

There was a clash of gears changing as the Englishman's expletive gave warning to the two riders who'd been hiding trying to gain tarmac as we started the next drag, out of the trees and into the more open terrain up to the view point Vilaflor. The unwanted surge of effort took me pretty close to the red zone as I fought to stay in contact but I wasn't the only one. I might not have the physical strength but I do have something like twenty kilos weight advantage which was enough to level the playing field.

The attack fizzled before the viewpoint, there were casualties but a quick body count revealled we were still over twenty strong even if a few heads were starting to hang. I took a pull on my bidon, the already tepid liquid lubricating my throat as we started to climb through the ever more arid landscape. I had a lightbulb moment, maybe thats it, I recalled Monday's 'practice' run, yep, it might just work, its worth a shot at least.
 

There were quite a few spectators up here, pick the right spot and you would see the race approaching for quite a distance. But of course, the audience is much bigger than these few folk on the side of Mount Teide, a fact I was reminded of when the camera bike dropped back to the following group. The 'pretty girl' act isn't gonna work with Alberto and co but maybe I can still use it to some advantage.

My elements of a plan were slowly coming together, just as well, we are already over halfway through the climb. Given that most of the depleted peloton are in their early twenties, the English was doing really well, I'm guessing he's about Dad's age and I bet he's been racing bikes a long time. Yeah, he rides like a pro, confident, no panic, a shorter, less wiry version of Alberto whose wheel he's hardly left all day.

Over the next couple of kilometres, the grade hovers between five and seven percent, you are constantly working, its the sort of effort you might expect on a solo time trial except today we are in a group. There were a couple more short lived escape attempts but it wasn't steep enough to snap the elastic nor was it easy enough to get a good acceleration. From my point of view it was useful to see who would chase and how they were afterwards, I just played along.

The TV bike was back by now, the viewing public want to see the head of the race not the fall out, I made a point of smiling at the camera and even gave a little wave at one instance. I might not win today but Apollinaris will get some good TV time! We were fast approaching the final assault, I wasn't the only one contemplating making a move, Senor Contador was starting to look a bit antsy.

Well I guess its decision time, stay here and hope for a result in the inevitable sprint or throw my chances to the mountain in a do or die escape attempt. I took another glug from my bottle and was just returning it to the cage when the English took a flier. It was unexpected on my part, I thought he'd stay marking Alberto but maybe he had similar thoughts to me.

His experience was evident, a big effort then quickly into TT mode, all or nothing. I wasn't the only one caught out, Alberto took a few seconds to react, I tagged third wheel behind him as he heaved his lanky frame up the tarmac. It was enough to explode the peloton, from over twenty we were down to just five in a matter of a hundred metres. The TV bike had missed the initial move too, only realising something was afoot when Alberto gave chase.

Mal was still pumping away at the pedals but will he be able to keep it up on the final, steeper drag to the line. The TV bike was still watching Contador, my turn to make an effort then. I slipped off third wheel and put down just enough extra to pull up to the Spaniards blind side, giving a little wave to the camera before hitting the turbo.

My ploy worked, the motorbike pulled ahead providing a bit of pacing as it did so, the gap to the Englishman closed quite rapidly, I caught him as we passed the kilo to go inflatable.

"Feck'n 'ell!”

 
Maddy Bell © 24.03.2021