Bike: Hunter
Distance: 7 laps, about 76 miles
Result: 26/191
It took me ten years of racing before I finally achieved a podium place. That was back in 2002, getting 3rd place on the Dusk til Dawn podium in mixed pairs, achieved in no small part to having a wife that was a similar speed as I was on a bike.
We repeated the feat in 2003. Since then Dusk til Dawn has been one of those races that occurs miles away. This year, having moved, we live a whole lot nearer, and this was definitely on my to-do list. Kirsty now has priorities, so I was going to have to do this all by myself.
The BBC weather forecast was for a dry night with patchy rain. Could they have been more wrong. It was raining with two hours to go, and continued to rain throughout. I joke about liking bad conditions because more people will quit. Was I about to be hoist by my own petard?
Let the chaos begin
The lead out was fast, but relaxed. Then into lap one. The trail was still nice and dry in places, especially in the trees. I didn’t remember Thetford being this flat. We used to joke it had a thousand feet of climbing per lap, in six inch whoops. Sure there were some climbs, but they didn’t feel steep. Some sections of trail I definitely remembered as uphill from years gone by, but they were definitely easier this year. Home run I’m thinking of in particular. I spent much of the first two laps drafting other solo riders, then once I had my breath back overtaking and sprinting to the next glow-stick.
My game plan was to go out with the NiteRiders and an awesome 10 watts of power then switch to my Lumicycles and their all night staying power, but only 5 watts, once I knew the course. Unfortunately due to a slipping USE alien seatpost clamp which I was having to fettle after each lap I completely forgot to switch lights after lap two. Cue brown out after two miles into lap three. Arse biscuits. My backup light, a Blackburn Voyager 3.3 pushes out a nice white light, but a very narrow beam. Not good for seeing round Thetfords corners. Still, there were plenty of people who had such bright lights I could hold their wheel and see where I was going. Thanks to the guys with the skulls who got me to Tom’s pit.
It was also very apparent as the course started to get wet that some of the team riders were out of their depth already. After holding the wheel of one guy in full waterproofs on the section between Helter Skelter and Howes Pit, with quite a queue building up behind us I might add, we finally reached a section long and wide enough for me to get past safely avoiding his wobbles. “On your right” I warned him. I was gobsmacked at both his response and the tone. A sarcastic, “If you’re fast enough”. Well, frankly. Fuck you Very Much. Thank goodness for riders like him that the trail still known as the Beast of the East* was replaced by the tamer Double Shock for this race.
One niggle on these early laps was a continually slipping seatpost head, a years old Alien from USE. By the end of this lap it was practically off the rails at the back, and either it had to be fixed or I was out. There was an Exposure tent in the main arena. Was it too much to hope they’d be carrying Alien spares? When I came in from the lap, I told Kirsty where I was going, and headed straight for the Exposure tent. The blokes behind the desk answered my query about Alien spares by slapping a new 3mm single bolt design onto the desk and sending me to the bike wash. Once I was back they even fitted the new clamp. Now that’s what I call service. No more excuses for long pit stops though!
By this time I was definitely detecting some climbs on the course. I settled into more of a long haul ride rather than race pace. There were less wheels to chase, and early leaders were now starting to lap me. The solo tent was getting emptier every time I returned. Either riders had had enough and fucked it off, or were in some kind of dazed and confused “what the fuck am I doing to myself/my bike” camaraderie. Food, drinks and tips for survival were being shared about. What had to be beaten was the course not your comrades. Finishing was a goal in itself.
Lap six was my last lap in darkness. By now there was definitely uphill on the course, and entire sections I was having to stand for. New lakes had appeared, which I definitely would have noticed if they’d been there earlier seeing as they were pedals deep. Riding lap seven I was finally able to place the sections of course relative to my old reference point of Mayday Meadow. Quite without intending to I finally finished at three minutes past 8. No lurking required.
My forks didn’t work. My brake pads were down to the metal. My bottom bracket was making horrible noises that I am hoping is a graunchy chain and not new bearings required. I’m fairly sure that if I’d had gears they’d have broken.
There were 191 entries in solo male.
156 started, or at least completed one lap. I managed 26th.
21 completed the 12 hours. Out of these I managed 12th.
There is no category for niche wanky singlespeed old giffers. I’m hoping I’d have had a podium place if there were.
12 years older in just 12 hours
* If you’ve ridden the beast of the east you’ll know that the beast in question is a mildly annoyed squirrel.
Just as Monster needs to let off steam I can’t sit at home during the Christmas break lamenting the size of my gut as I feed myself with the contents of the traditional box of Quality Streets*. We had planned a group hack this morning, four horses in Polite jackets riding through the village causing the local youth to stare at their feet and kick the tyres of their hot hatches**. Inclement weather of the wet and windy variety put paid to that. Did I want to risk more punctures and mud to go out? Did I heck.
