Muddin’
Sure, hacking through deep mud is quite fun if you have one of these with a V12 strapped into it, but if like the 1000 of us who were at Dusk Till Dawn last weekend, if you just have pedals and your legs, it's a whole different proposition.
To be honest I can't say I was even looking forward to it and that was prior to the bad weather forecast. Myself and Rob Dean (South Downs Double singlespeed record holder, Morvelo Collective rider and Brighton local) had a plan early in the year to have a crack at doing pairs. He's more used to solo and I'm more used to teams, so we were intrigued by the middle ground. As such it was a step into the unknown which largely explained my hesitancy. A drop off of cycling time and increase of work for Morvélo's first ever trade show appearance at Cycle later this week (see you there – we're on the Vitesse stand in the retail area), meant I was out of sorts and not focused. So with those excuses out the way (Rob had better one than me with a long haul flight back from Korea the day before) I told myself to T.T.F.U. and sort my shit out. Detailed planning of what to bring, how I should race and what to expect helped ease the nerves and I was confident that everything was in place for a good performance even if the engine was a bit out of tune. Non stop lashings of rain on the Friday initially dampened my enthusiasm but I told myself to embrace the onset of autumn. I love cyclocross and it's way more fun in the mud, so I turned my focus to that mentality. Love the mud and you'll love the ride. It's all in the mind not in the legs. After all the forecast said heavy rain was expected at 8pm on race day with no possible let up until 4am the next morning, meaning the large proportion of the race will be wetter than the Atlantic. Setting up camp with the Singular guys and a handful of other Brighton locals we pondered the impending storm with all of us adopting the 'laugh in the face of adversity' option. If only we knew. Race underway, Big Rob out for the first lap, and like clockwork the heaven's opened. Within minutes everything was soaked. I hastily go back to the pit area to bung on some arm and knee warmers just in case. One tiny morsel of kindness was that it wasn't that cold although setting off for my first lap I was instantly shivering due to the rain, so it took a good mashing of the pedals to warm myself up. I was fearful of a Gorrick Enduro repeat held in similar conditions where I couldn't feel my hands after 20 miles. Luckily once I was warm things were going well. It was wet but the course was still riding fast and good fun. Coming back in I was all smiles. Hey, I could get into this. Fresh dry kit on. Back at the change over Rob looks a good deal muddier this time around and it took him another 10minutes or so longer than his first lap. Maybe he had a mechanical? Never mind, off I go back into the unrelenting rain. Meh, this isn't as much fun as the first lap. The course had deteriorated hugely even in the short time since my last lap (we were doing one lap on, one lap off) which explained Rob's increase in lap time. Four miles in and the brakes die due to the mud and grit. Doesn't matter as the course is quite flat and not that much need for braking due to the mud. Seven miles in and I'm already starting to struggle and as Gareth from the Singular team comes past I try and hold his wheel. I stay with him for a while but I can feel the hunger knock already coming on so I ease back. I still have 9 hours left. Is my body really working this hard in the mud? I was struggling to find time to eat or drink as the super slippy and muddy course needed hands on the bars even on the fireroad. What is this all about. Fireroad behaving like off camber singletrack! It was nuts. Dragging myself in I switched bikes to the singlespeed kitted out with WTB Rajin (http://bit.ly/cwLcjG) mud tyres. Time for some Muddin'. Putting on new kit I was surprised to see mud and grit had gone although the lycra. I could have just been racing naked for all the mud and grit I was covered in. Nice mental image I know. Oh dear, this is just like the Gorrick Enduro of this year. This time though, it's dark and lasts 12hrs. Shite. The next handover was leisurely. Rob's bike had given up the ghost and his body wasn't responding well to the Maxx Exposure / long haul flight training regime. We left it that I would go out and we'd see how tings were going from there. We both new it wasn't looking promising. We were in 5th in pairs which was about where we thought we'd be, maybe 3rd if we were on it and having a good race. That option was long gone. Just survival now. So off I went, and I'll tell you now, by the time I got back at 2.45am I felt like I had been gone for a week and had covered 200 miles. By the first mile my brakes had gone and I hadn't even toughed the damn things. The grit and mud was wearing them out by itself! But they still dragged and combined with the now Somme like mud progress was not brisk. I passed a 3 mile marker and thought "Great, I'll be back soon." Then after quite an inconceively long period of time I passed the 4 mile marker. Ahhh fuck. This is so much worse than I thought. Over taking people was a lottery. Sometimes good once you found a thin slither of soemthing vaguely gippy, and others I'd call "On your right" only for the mud to left go of the tyre and direct me straight off into the trees. Cue, catching the rider back up again only for the situation to repeat. That was normally followed by "Sod it, I'll wait until the fireroad." This was not that much easier. Of the very small amount of riders I saw on my 1am and last lap, all were trying numerous lines on the fireraod just trying to find grip. The bikes were fishtailing and sliding even on flat fireroad. At no point could you stop pedalling otherwise you'd loose momentum and stop forever. I saw bikes propped up against trees, lights on, with no riders to be seen. Lost forever in the woods. Thousand yard stares, muttering and rocking. I was worrying finding that running with my bike was faster than riding. My lights we're running out (an sign of how long this lap was taking me) and the mile markers were counting down at a worryingly slow pace. Despite my layers and jacket the heavy rain and slow progress was making me cold and it was only the camaraderie of the other riders that kept any of us going. It was, on recollection, like escaped POWs trying to make it to Switzerland. "Just over the next hill. Surely". "Is that the lights of the arena over there?" Only for hopes to be dashed when we came up to another marker saying 5 miles. I honestly though about tracking off through the woods to try and find a direct route back to my tent. It was only the prospect of getting lost that stopped me. Having made it back after what was around a 1hr and 45 minute lap (my first lap was about 50 minutes to give you an indication of how much worse the course had become) I was relieved to see that everyone we were with had packed and were sitting recounting stories over beers (apart from eventual solo winner Steve Webb who was still going!). "This is where I belong", I thought. Chapeau to all those that stuck it out. You are some doubly hard bastards. For me that last lap was the hardest 11 miles of my life. With no climbs there were no downhills which meant no respite from the eternal death march thought the quagmire. Lap 3 of Dusk Till Dawn has taught me lesson dealing with mud. Leave it to the V12's and 'cross bikes.
