*Chapter 10*

Großes Climbing

 
 
I looked out of the window and only after wiping the window did I realise it was pretty thick fog outside.

“I hope this clears.” I mentioned.

“What man?”

“It’s thick fog out there.”

“Fog?” he repeated joining me at the window.

“I guess it’s got time to clear.” I observed, turning away, “Best get dressed for breakfast.”

 
 
By the time we assembled in front of the thoughtfully named Hotel Meiringen the fog had lifted somewhat although the sun was having trouble being seen and the temperature, whilst not cold was not particularly warm either. Our two jerseys again earnt us a premier position on the ‘grid’, it was a little surreal to be stood there in the yellow jersey, Josh beside me in the polka flags. The Spanish squad lined up behind us with the Swiss and German teams next in the pecking order.

I waited nervously for the pre race speeches to conclude, anxious to get hostilities started.

“You all right, man?” Josh asked.

“Not really.”

“Me either, never had a GC jersey before, ah feel like there’s a big arra over me ‘ead, like.”

“Tell me about it.” I agreed.

Before we could dwell on that any longer we were waved away amidst a chorus of horns, hooters and clapping. As is usual the first kilometre is neutralised which allows everyone to get clipped in and settled before the hostilities get underway. This morning it also meant that we cleared the level crossings that we crossed after yesterday’s second sprint. We swung onto the main road and lit the blue touch paper.

The road was effectively flat and dead straight for over two kilometres either side of a gentle curve. It wasn’t strong but there was an ever-present headwind and nothing resembling shelter until we turn off – how do I know this? Well we used this road to get to the hotel after yesterday’s stage. As we started to form echelons there was something of a scramble behind us as anyone who hoped to compete on the day tried to get in the leading lines.

Although in theory I’m the protected rider today, that doesn’t mean I intend to just sit in behind the others. So okay, my turns were more symbolic than driving but a show of strength never hurts and the appearance of the yellow jersey on the front of the fast moving rotation will hopefully do a bit of mental bashing on the ‘lower ranks’. Despite the headwind we were bowling along at almost forty kph, all of Team GB were in the first group along with several Spaniards and a dusting of other nations.

We soon swung off at the foot of the Brünig but instead of turning up like we did yesterday, today we took the old road tucked in close to the base of the huge Ballenberg cliff. Although we now lost the incessant wind and the echelons broke up but instead of reforming into one big bunch the race formed several smaller groups with small but discernable gaps between them. The Spanish riders joined us in the pace making as we started the trip along the edge of Brienzersee.

The weather was showing scant signs of clearing up and whilst we could see across the lake, the mountains above remained shrouded by cloud. Once through the scene of yesterday’s victory the road rarely moves more than a handful of metres from the lakeside and whilst not flat it’s a gently rolling route. A couple of times riders tried to escape forcing us to do all the work in chasing them down but with ten of us spreading the work it wasn’t as onerous as it might have been.

One unforeseen effect of these attacks was that the split to the second group had slowly grown from a handful of bike lengths to about ten seconds. By the absence of all bar Paul Innerthausen of the German squad that meant any repeat of Roni’s performance yesterday would be hard work. Looking around the bunch I spotted the Belgian, Michael Desgrange sitting in comfortably, super Mario was there as was Jose – has the selection already been made?

I nodded to Michael who slipped through the bunch to join me on the outside, hopefully clear of trouble.

“We meet again.” He grinned using broken German.

“On your own?”

“You know how it is,” He shrugged, “yellow suits you.”

“It has its drawbacks.” I observed.

“The Swiss, he watches like a hawk eh?”
*
“One of the drawbacks.” I noted. “Without him or the Spanish involved we most likely wouldn’t chase an escape too hard.” I hinted.

“I see.” He mentioned with a curious look.

“I’m told the German rides well.”

“I’ve heard the same.” Michael smiled.

“Later.”

He winked and moved towards Innerthausen.

“What was that about man?” Josh queried.

“A possibility of moving the balance of power in our favour.”

“How’s that like?”

“If the time bonuses and mountains points are taken by riders not in contention we don’t have to work so much, the onus will be on the Swiss and Spanish to try to get something.”

“It has merit.”

“So perhaps we won’t chase down a certain attack in the next couple of k?” I suggested.

“I’ll tell Jamie, you’d best talk to Mark.”
 
 

I best had. I slipped forward to where he was shadowing Martinez.

“Mark.”

“Bond old bean, wassup?”

“Bit of a twist to the programme.”

“Attack for the time bonus? They’ll never let us do it a second time.”

“Not us, maybe a certain German and a friend.”

“Hmm, sneaky, even if our friend then got the last bonus he couldn’t move up and I reckon we can prevent that anyhow.”

With any luck we’ll retain our one two on the leader board and the spotty shirt, we just need to prevent the Spaniard gaining more than twelve seconds, Mario has a thirty five second deficit. We can’t be complacent but if Paul and Michael are successful we’ll be in a better place for the final stage – tomorrow we are, so to speak, on our own.
 
 

We didn’t have too long to wait, the road started to tilt up a little and both, Paul and Michael sprinted off the front. The Spanish were clearly waiting for us to react as we had on all the previous occasions but we just sat. Super Mario was clearly confused too, constantly watching us, waiting for the first sign of a reaction.

As the road continued up the shallow incline our manufactured breakaway stretched their advantage and had close to two hundred metres before the Spanish decided they needed to react if we weren’t going to. Of course now we did react, sitting on the action and then taking on the chase – except of course we weren’t chasing. The climb through Goldswil finally topped out and we dropped quickly towards Interlaken, swooping over the river and railway tracks on a high bridge.

Josh led us down the ramp to ground level where we started a loop through one of the suburbs prior to hitting downtown Interlaken. The sky above looked pretty ominous; if we don’t see rain we’ll be very lucky. The lads in front were working well together and despite our ‘chase’ were holding their advantage and it was looking like my scheme might actually work.

The exposed route past the airfield had the gap closing but once into the town proper the elastic started to stretch again. The Iberian riders decided to throw their efforts in with ours but a roundabout and tight left-hander hampered the chase. The escapees had about seventy-five metres advantage as we broke into the Höhematte, enough that they were already crossing the line with its bonuses.

Mark took a flier which Martinez followed but starting a couple of lengths behind could only bring one result – a victory for Cav. The Spaniards only remaining chance today is to take real road time out of us, he might have an ally in the Swiss but we are hardly gonna lie down and let them go. Cav’s celebration masked the Belgo – Germanic tandem speeding away through Interlaken’s busy shopping area.

“Nice one!” I grinned patting Mark on the shoulder.

“Just need to keep a lid on them now.” He pointed out.

“We lost the girls winding that up.” I noted.

“Couple of others too.” Mark observed.

“Tempo boss?” Josh enquired as we passed the West Bahnhof.

“If we can keep it steady to the climb then turn it up a bit?”

“We’ll try.” He grinned.

The road dodged back and forth a bit until we reached Wilderswil then whilst well surfaced and quite wide you could feel the road start to climb. The first spots of rain coloured the road as we made our way through the canyon alongside the river carrying the white waters down to Interlaken. We broke from the trees with the escapees still some two hundred metres ahead and the rain starting to persist down.

A road sign announced our approach to the Grindelwald turn and flashing lights ahead located its exact position. So far Super Mario hadn’t really done much today so I wasn’t too surprised when he made a move down the inside as we made the turn. Josh was on his wheel though and although they found twenty metres going out of the turn it wasn’t going anywhere.

The road climbed steadily but not steeply with the river to one side and railway line to the other, the cold waters somehow steaming in the still warm mid day downpour. Our group had shed more riders, Geth amongst them so we were now only a dozen strong. The grade increased as we bypassed Mättli easing slightly before the first serious climbing through Ey.

No one seemed too enthused to attack the climb, the rain already turning the road into a river. It was surprisingly warm despite the wet, enough that I slipped my glasses off and hooked them into my helmet as they kept steaming up. As the road rolled along the valley Paul and Michael could be seen ahead of us, sharing the pace and maintaining their advantage.

We started another steeper section and we got our first real glance at the Mönch / Eiger massif through the clouds that continued to supply us with liquid sunshine.

“We dinna go o’er that?” Jamie queried.

“Flippin’ hope not.” Mark panted.

“This must be Grindelwald, the climb proper starts the other side of the town.” I supplied.

“I thought we were on it.” Mark groaned.

We ascended into the town and each gave a sigh of relief as the road actually dipped slightly through the shopping street. A few spectators waved and cheered from the shelter of the roadside arcades, I noticed a profusion of those damned posters again – at least no one’s likely to connect the half drowned yellow jersey wearer with the girl on the advertising. Our select group swooped through the town but the flatter roadway inevitably turned upward and surprisingly steeply too.

Up out of the saddle we matched each other pedal stroke for pedal stroke, Pellini was certainly comfortable but Martinez lost a little ground although he was quickly back in touch as we entered a series of wide turns that raised us at a slower rate. The sound of cowbells being rung alerted us to something happening ahead; as we made the next turn we were greeted by a sizeable crowd cheering us. Why here? That was answered in short measure as the wide roadway abruptly stopped and we entered a steep upward chute barely a car width wide.

It soon opened out again but the gradient was steeper than down below, the road very much single carriageway as we twisted our way through fields fenced with wire, wood and even dry stone walls. The lads ahead were starting to lose some ground to us as the unrelenting ascent continued away from the smaller fields to more open terrain. That was bad news but the gradual loss of precipitation was good, the clouds previously masking our way ahead now allowing the odd patch of sky to be seen.

Mario kept looking around, if he’s not thinking of making a move I’m a Dutchman. The terrain never let you see more than a few hundred metres ahead as it twisted in a series of wide turns. Up ahead Michael blew and came back towards us unbelievably quickly.

“Go for it, Bond.” He gasped as I passed.

“Keep it going.” I offered in return.

The Swiss made his move on the next steeper section to which I had no immediate answer. He quickly had twenty metres on me before a slight easing of the grade let me draw enough breath to react. I really shouldn’t’ve been but I was a little surprised when Josh came past, offering a wheel to follow.

There had been a few watchers as we climbed but they became more populous the higher we climbed. Herr Innerthausen finally lost his advantage on the next hairpin, Pellini accelerating not just past him but away from me and Josh too – shitza! The grade became less but it was no good, the Swiss rider had timed his effort with perfection and the gap between us continued to grow with each pedal stroke.

Finally we made a turn and a glance upward revealed the Hotel Gr.Scheidegg and to its left the pass summit. We’d taken the German on the previous turn and a quick glance under my arm revealed him doggedly hanging onto my wheel.

“Made it!” Josh gasped.

“‘Bout flippin’ time.” I complained, my legs screaming for a rest.

The crowd at the top cheered and donged as we made the final ascent where I cheekily dodged around Josh to claim the seven points; if nothing else I’d still have the polka jersey tomorrow. I glanced back down the climb, no sign of the Spaniard or anyone else for that matter. Oh well, twelve k to go and it’s all downhill – tally ho!

© Maddy Bell 21.01.14