A great write up of the Dengie Marshes by ELV rider Mo Jam (Murdo)
What a ride! It was pretty fast from the start and seemed to get going before we had even reached the start line. Not being pushy enough I started quite far back in the group and had to struggle to work my way up to the yellow shirts of Tommy and David. I’m always a bit shaky starting and felt a little unnatural on the bike, this wasn’t helped by a tight bend, on the spur road leading to the circuit, with a sharp drop off into a huge hole on the inside track! I swung into the bend to take a few places and saw a 5 foot deep pit below me, which didn’t do much to steady the nerves.
Images courtesy of www.londoncyclesport.com
The pace stayed high and I managed to work my way up. Then it got rough, big holes all over the place and plenty of loose gravel. Like gun shots in a spaghetti western stones were pinging off tyres and rattling against spokes. The pace got higher! I had to stand up and pound the pedals with my back wheel jumping all over the place on the rough ground. Through a farm yard, “on the left!” someone shouted, strange i thought, as i turned right onto the track. We were still doing over 40km/h when we hit the brown track covered in loose dirt and stones, turf in the middle. The group was getting strung out, the bastards at the front were attacking! Then I saw the bog and the spectators, cameras ready to capture the carnage. They would not be disappointed! I stayed upright but when I turned onto the road I saw the groups strung out in front. I knuckled down and got in to TT mode, it’s impressive how fast you can go on the flat smooth roads, even when you have a kilo of mud clininging to your brake calipers. I saw Tommy ahead and battled on.
The next few laps were much the same only people attacked harder in to the rough stuff and I always found myself having to work really hard when I got back on the road. At one point coming through the bog a rider to my right was catapulted into the air! I just saw bike and jersey airborne at shoulder height then heard a clatter as a few riders piled into him. I got shunted into a boggy hole on the left and came to an abrupt stop, I think Tommy was just behind and landed in the brambles. Back on the road I passed several riders and we merged into a chasing group. A tall rider with bleached hair and colourful gear did the lions share of the work with me as we managed to catch the bunch just before the rough section. It was around then that I realised I was in the lead group. I had my suspicions when I noticed the number of bulbous intimidating calves around me, then the motorbike ahead confirmed it.
Things eased a little, which is always worrying, the big guns got twitchy and feigned some attacks to see who was with it. I asked myself if I was with it. Two short attacks, ‘well I’m still here’. As the pace eased I gave a kick then looked back, it seemed to work, i’d opened up a surprising gap. This thought was instantly followed by the realisation that they had sized me up and thought ‘Nah! he’ll be back’. Probably right, but if i could just stay ahead over the rough i would save myself an energy sapping catch up.
The rough was further than I thought. Must keep pushing the pedals but not kill myself, 42km/hr that should hold them off for a bit. I was on my own and became more aware of my surroundings, surreal, what a lovely day . Then a breeze at my ear, the pack passed noiselessly, straining in unison I jumped on in the middle just as someone attacked, and as ever just before the rough I was near the back.
I stayed on but was starting to lose ground as the attacks came on the flats. Two jumped, no response, another 1, then 2, got to go.. any time now.. our bunch was getting smaller. ‘focus on the brake calliper’ (thanks Hugo) 56km/hr and faster, I held on. At some point a lap later one of the BMC riders with imposing calves shouted at me ‘hold the f*****g wheel’ I was 3 back and in trouble. On the rise before the rough stuff the attacks came again I stood on the pedals to respond and my legs had gone to blocks. I could have endured the pain but they just wouldn’t work. I watched the bunch ease away helpless and deflated, I’d worked really hard to get here and there they go. I saw them leaving the bog but I was 200m away. I just wanted to be swallowed up in one of those muddy holes. I really didn’t want anyone to see me, but they were watching, taking pictures, brutal race! Broken man Dropped!
I carried on at pedestrian pace, two riders cantered up and passed, I didn’t have the will to go with them. Then i saw the lap point and heard the bell. A cluster of bodies and Simon… a familiar face, I was finished. I stopped and was persuaded to continue. So off i went until the next bunch caught up, I searched for yellow shirts and found David, another familiar face to carry me home. No more work for me, just focus on that calliper. Mentally I massaged my broken ego with thoughts of tea and cake until I crossed the line.
Thrilling to be up in the mix, gutted that i couldn’t stay there.
A Brilliant well organised event! A fast flat road race with a brutal twist. But yes i would do it again.
Murdo
