Gaby Book 18 - Summery

 
“What the?” Joe allowed when the female contingent of Team Apollinaris Jungere arrived in the breakfast room.
Dad glanced up from his plate of scrambled egg and had a chuckle.
“Not team girly again, man,” Josh moaned.
“You could join us Joshy,” Tali teased.

Well if you haven’t guessed already we’ve gone girly big style, full make up, braids complete with ribbons, pink nails – well the whole nine yards. Yeah I know it’s a tactic we’ve used before but this is the first time at this level of race. The four of us, it has to be said, look more like cheerleaders than serious cycle racers which is of course the whole point.

“Get your breakfasts, girls,” Angela smirked.

“Gabs? That you in there?” Cav enquired.
“Uh huh, didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Or you he countered, so what’s with all the makeup, you don’t usually wear any.”

Shows how observant you are Cavendish!

“Deflection.”
“Deflection? No I don’t want to know. So who’s here, Josh?”
“Around somewhere, Mand’s is over with Tali and Ron.”
“Ron?”
“So tall,” I indicated a spot above both our heads, “dark shoulder length hair.”
“That Ron, I thought you’d got another lad on the squad.”
“Nope, just us girls, so Mr Rainbow jersey, who you got?”
“Geth, Daz, Jamie and a new lad Bradley something, long streak of nothing.”
“Mark,” a familiar voice called out.
“Here!” Cav waved his arm about.
“There you are, might’ve guessed you’d be chatting up the ladies,” Chris suggested, hurrying up to us.
“Hi Chris.”
“Hi Gaby, interesting look.”
“If you’ve got it,” I offered.
“You wanted me, Chris?”
“Yeah, they want to do an interview, Mark.”
“Okay, see you later, Barbie.”
Chris rolled his eyes, “Good ride, girl.”
“Cheers.”

“That Cav?” Josh enquired passing me a tiny paper cup of Espresso.
“Who else.”
“Looks like a few handy riders here, man.”
“Urgh! This coffee’s like unrefined diesel,” I complained after taking an ill advised mouthful.
“Never said it was good coffee,” Josh chuckled.
“Think we’re gonna struggle for any sort of result today.”
“You could be right, man.”
“GB are running a new lad according to Mark, long streak of nothing.”
“Right,” Josh noted, “wondered who was talking to Jamie.”

Whilst big in its own right, the junior GP Limburg isn’t in quite the same league as Roubaix or the other scaled down classics. It does have full service, rolling road closures and attracts a good international field. Thankfully however the MC was more interested in the Dutch riders than anyone else, Cav got introduced and the Roubaix winner had a mention but thankfully this time I escaped.

Dad collected our trackies when we were called to the line, the sky looked like we’d stay dry at least. A whistle sounded and we rolled away from the City Hall for a four hour bumble around the Dutch mountains. They kept us neutral out of the city centre and remained under close police protection for a further kilometre or so.

We rolled over the Maas (there was a sign) then through the eastern ‘burbs and into the Limburg countryside. No one seemed very keen to do more than check out the opposition and it seems the hot chicks in the blue jerseys. I reckon almost every member of the peloton came for a gander, including the new lad on Team GB.

“Wotcha.”
“Hi?”
“Brad, Jamie said you were a looker.”
“Did he indeed,” I'll be having words with Mr Wilson.
“Yeah.”
“What else did he say?”
“That you could wup the lot of us.”
“Did he offer any clues as to how I might accomplish such a feat?”
“I asked the same thing,” he grinned.
“So what did he say?”
“Watch.”
“That all? Dang, I was hoping someone might have some idea how to overcome all this testosterone.”
“He said you were funny too,” Brad chuckled, “best get on, my lord and master will be looking for me.”
“Lord and master?”
“The Rainbow King.”
“That’d be right.

The road gained a few metres altitude, the peloton however remained pretty much intact except for an early puncture victim. Being the only girls taking part was having some slightly unexpected results, instead of the more usual jostling, each time I tried to move forward a gap opened. By the time we started the short drop into Valkenburg all four of us were nicely positioned top twenty.

Best part of fifteen K in and we were still a fairly compact mass of bikes but that was about to change. I’m not sure what triggered it but the speed went from thirty to forty and from a comfortable Sunday ride it was suddenly a race. It wasn’t like someone had even made a break for it, no it was more like a switch was flicked to go.

We were now on the road we climbed last night, if not familiar we at least had an idea of what awaited us over the next few kilometres. A lap is about sixty kilometres, we do two of them, Wuppertal this isn’t, any solo attack will, I'm pretty sure be doomed. It doesn’t stop people trying of course but realistically it’s just a waste of energy.

It was where we turned off last night that the first proper attack was launched, the sharp turns and narrow streets inevitably slowing the bunch. The lad was wearing the red and white of Switzerland and simply time trialled off the front. I was itching to give chase but Dad had been adamant that we were to let others do the work.

Okay I can see his logic, he’s not often wrong but that doesn’t mean that I always follow the game plan.

“Seems a bit weird just watching like,” Josh mentioned when I ended up alongside him shortly after.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “ot oh, chase time.”
The Swiss escape had gained maybe two hundred metres before faltering, he’d be back without the bunches input but that Bradley lad was winding things up at the front.
“We should help?” Josh queried.
“Nah, let’s see what happens.”

What happened was that the string bean towed the peloton along for over a kilometre before, if not blowing, at least sitting up. The gap to the leader wasn’t closed but it was smaller, now if that had been Josh we’d all be together. Of course the increase in pace did string us out some although the effects overall were more limited.

It wasn’t much further that a sharp left hander put us onto a more significant climb and the front of the peloton exploded all over the road. I was caught a little unaware so lost ground quickly, but I wasn’t the only one, the rainbow jersey was labouring big style, going up really isn’t his forte. A quick check round, yeah I'm still front half but the actual front is away up the road – damn!

We were some way up the road before things settled down a bit, but the damage was done. I could see Josh a few metres ahead, the GB shirt next to him belonged to Jamie, when did he pass me? The gradient eased allowing me to close on those ahead of me in time for another steeper section.

There were riders further ahead of our little group but they could wait, for now getting to the top of the climb was the important bit. The next village almost straddled said summit and now we could start thinking ahead.

“We chasing?” Josh asked.
“Let’s just hold for now, there’s still like ninety K to go.”

No one else in the group seemed inclined to do anything beyond stay put, vive le status quo.

“What’ve you been saying to that new lad?” I demanded of Jamie.
“Nothing.”
“Not what he said.”
“I might’ve mentioned yer a bonny lass.”
“Hmmph!”
“So what’s the plan?”
“You throwing in with us?”
“I don’t see any other GB shirts up here.”

It was a good job we were in a smaller group, the following descent, whilst not stupidly long or steep did contain some nasty turns. At least we could get round without too much hard braking, above and below us the squeal of rubber on alloy indicated others were having less fun. We exited the trees to cross the valley, we could see the lead car on the next climb, not a huge distance ahead, certainly no more than at the last summit.

We were riding quite well as a group, a loose sort of rotation which I was being quite successful at avoiding being a full part of. Maybe the whole girly thing is working? Chancing a look behind I was a bit surprised to find the main peloton I guess about a minute adrift but it was well populated, maybe thirty, forty riders.

A short steep section took us up to the summit, its twin almost immediately dropping us back down; that would be too simple of course as the road builders added a couple of hairpins for good measure before we returned to more rolling countryside. By now the early morning coolness was long gone and a thin haze sat across the Maas valley ahead and below us.

“Gab’s,” Josh called for my attention.

I dropped back as soon as.

“Wassup?”
“That lot behind, we waiting for ‘em to catch us or making a move like?”

Good question, if we drop back we lose any advantage we have, stay and it’s just delaying the inevitable which leaves…

“Let’s inject a couple of K, if there's no change by the feed we take it to ‘em.”
“Fine.”
“Jamie’s in,” I added.

Josh nodded in understanding.

The lanes on this stretch were so like Nottinghamshire it was uncanny, no long straights but also not too squiggly, roads you can ride quickly and we did just that. Josh injected a bit of extra pace every time he hit the front, not sure if the others really noticed but we were soon singing along at a good forty K’s. We joined a main road and Maastricht was ahead of us, which meant we’d be turning to the feed shortly.

We didn’t seem to have made any inroads on the leaders, the lead cars lights were still in sight on the straighter sections but still a couple of minutes ahead. Behind wasn’t much better, the gap hadn’t closed but if it had opened it was by the smallest amount. Looks like plan B

Dad and Joe each held a musette out as we reached the feed zone.
“Two minutes!”

I nodded as I grabbed the bag, damn, we need to close that gap and before that ‘big’ climb. The bags contents were swiftly transferred to pockets in time for a drop of bag and empty bottles for Angela to collect from the grass verge.

Josh was equally swift in his efforts, Jamie was struggling a bit but as we started lap two we were ready.

Maddy Bell © 26.11.16