LESSON LEARNT IN A DAY...

It’s only been just over 2 days since the event finished, but it’s clear that Mountain Mayhem has already made an indelible impression on my life. Some events and experiences seem to burn a more compete and rich groove in the memory banks. I’m still mentally downloading the many and varied memories those 24 hours laid down and I’m still talking about day-long it with my team-mates, so it’s also had an impact on my ability to work and my wife and daughter have been very patient, but they are now giving me strong hints that it’s time to move on and re-connect with my normal existence.

Such is the fate of a Mayhem virgin. I’m 41 years old, have ridden mountain bikes for over 20 years and yet this incredible sport still has the capacity to enthral and excite me with new experiences. To tell you the truth, I’m a bit of a late developer when it comes to events and races. I’ve always viewed cycling as a way to chisel out some time for myself and get away from the rest of the world – some quality time with myself.

However, just occasionally I venture out into mountain biking society and try something fresh and interact with my fellow mountain bikers. Mountain Mayhem has been on my radar for a few years now, but I’ve never been great at planning ahead, so I never committed to entering. This year, some work colleagues decided to ride it and we put in a couple of teams. To cut a long story short, I initially didn’t enter, but when a member of one of the teams withdrew with a week to go, I was offered the chance to ride and I decided to give it a go.

Luckily I was in decent shape and so I arrived mid morning on the Saturday of the event as prepared as I could be, but with that rather exposed feeling you get when you try something completely outside your experience.

I’d done my best to garner information on the event in the run in, via websites to start with and then through friends who had ridden it. A poor weather forecast for the weekend prompted me to ask about conditions under-wheel and I was disconcerted to hear that the venue, Eastnor, was prone to sticky mud, which is a nightmare during a short XC race, but can be soul-destroying if extended over many hours.

The word on the street was that I’d need some 1.5 inch tyres, thin enough to keep the bike wheels turning in the worst conditions. Add to that some super sticky chain lube and I would be proofed against the worst weather. Both bits of advice turned out to be sport-on.

Next came advice on race strategy. With a team of 4 riders and lap times likely to be around 50 minutes to an hour, I’d possibly be looking to ride 6 laps in the 24 hours. So how should I approach this?

The conventional wisdom seemed to be ride single laps in turn until it goes dark, then ride double laps during darkness, before returning to single laps on the final morning. And ride steady and pace yourself, some said. Others said go for it and do a couple of quick laps early on, just to see how fast you can cover the course, then calm down later. Others said do double laps throughout and chill out in the 6 hours or so between stints.

Luckily two of my team-mates were Mayhem regulars, one of whom, Andy, seemed happy to accept the responsibility of being the team “captain”. He preferred the single laps in daylight and double laps at night approach. I was happy to follow the voice of experience.

A frantic week of bike prep, list writing, laundry, packing and various logistical exercises culminated in me heading south at 7am on Saturday morning and was at Eastnor by 10am. Here’s a few snapshots of the weekend as it unfolded:

10.30 – arrive. The venue is huge, unexpectedly huge, with tents and camper vans as far as the eye can see. I pull over and call my team-mates on the mobile. They talk me into the team camp. There’s no way I would have found it on my own. Wow, this event is big!

11.00 – collect number and transponder. A laid-back and well-organised Registration area is reassuring and I have only a short wait to be served. It’s then back to the team camp to unpack and prepare the bike. There are people and bikes everywhere.

15.40 – Liam returns to the camp to report on his first lap. He reports the course, wet overnight, is drying despite overcast conditions. He also reports big delays on the first lap as the riders bunch at tight sections. The course is apparently quite technical. That’s one thing I hadn’t really thought about. I had arrived with visions of a fairly flat, non-technical course. However, it sounds exciting and the nerves are really beginning to kick in. I’ll have to head up to the transition zone soon.

16.30 – I’m on course for my first lap. I start steadily, and am surprised at the size of the first climb, which comes almost immediately. I goes on and on and by the time I’m at the top, I’m warmed up and beginning to pick up the pace, but I’m also thinking about how many times I’ll have to climb this mini-monster.

17.25 – I hand over to our fourth man, Rob, at the end of my lap. It’s been a roller-coaster ride, during which I’ve gone a bit harder than I’d intended. I’d ridden a little roughly on the technical sections, which are a mixture of tight, single line cambered descents and winding singletrack in woodland. I’ll have to tighten up if I’m to avoid a crash in the dark and when I’m tired. Climbing is also a really big feature of the course. I end the lap in a bit of tangle – I’d fastened my transponder to my bike and it fails to register as I cross the line at the end of the lap. The timing guys efficiently stop me and give me a short sharp lecture on why I should wear it on my leg, as instructed. I then get tangled up with another rider’s bike as I try to hand over my bracelet to Rob. The other rider swears at me. I apologise, but he’s clearly a miserable sod and blanks me. Welcome to Mayhem!

18.45 – Rob returns to the camp. I’ve cleaned my bike, switched to normal mountain bike tyres from the 1.5 inch Contis I’d used for the first lap, changed into dry kit and am enjoying a snack meal. Rob looks unhappy and throws his bike down. His legs are streaked with yellow marks and a little blood. He’s crashed three times during an otherwise fairly rapid lap and the first-aiders have put something on his wounds. Rob’s a road time trial specialist, but has plenty of off-road experience. However, he’s clearly struggling to get his head round Mayhem. He retires to his camping chair and scoffs rice pudding from a tin.

19.50 – Liam returns from his second lap and confirms the course is now pretty dry. He’s laughing ruefully as he shows us his seat pin, which has disintegrated and apparently nearly skewered him mid lap as the saddle departed into the bushes. He’s saved the saddle and after a wash and brush-up, he’s off to the main race village to buy a new pin.

20.30 – I’m back on course again and feeling surprisingly good as I crest the first climb. The lap unfolds steadily in front of me. The course seems a lot less busy then earlier and I get a clear run at all the technical sections. I feel like I’m floating along and as darkness gradually envelopes the course, I’m really enjoying myself. Rob will be using lights when he goes out next, but I’m adjusting to the dimming light as I go and really enjoying myself.

23.00 – With Liam out on the course at the start of his double lap turn, I retire to the back of my car and try to get some sleep. I’m comfortable on a thin mattress I’ve squeezed into the back, but the adrenaline is surging through me and I’m not going to find sleep easy.

04.25 – a knock on the car door wakes me and I find Rob outside wanting to know when he’s due out. We’d not broken the news of the ceasefire to him during the night, so I explain what’s been decided and reassure him he’s not due out for a while. Andy emerges sunken-eyed from his tent and begins to get ready to go out. It’s windy, but it’s now dry. Andy tells me the course dries very quickly, but even so, it will clearly not start to get better for some time.

06.30 – Andy returns to the transition to hand over to me. I’ve been waiting for some time and he’s been out for nearly and hour and a half and he and his bike are clogged with mud. I slap on the bracelet and head off across wet grass with the grey light of dawn hanging over the event. The first climb rapidly turns into a nightmare of porridge-like mud. I’m back on the 1 point fives, but am soon pushing. It’s going to be a long lap.

09.30 – I’ve spent ages getting the worst of the mud off my bike, especially the transmission. It’s exhausting having to keep on top of the bike as well as remember to eat and try to grab some rest. Suddenly Rob returns, a third lap under his belt. The bike doesn’t go flying, but he’s clearly not enjoying himself and attempts at banter and humour are rebuffed. After a while he comes over to Andy and myself and announces he’s had enough. To be fair, he’s the least experienced mountain biker of the three of us, he’s had a bucket-full of crashes and he looks weary and dispirited.

10.30 – Liam returns from another lap – he’s been heroic again after his night exploits, refusing to miss a turn and getting stuck in. He reports that the course is drying very rapidly. It’s warm but still windy. It’s obvious that the weather has taken its toll on the riders and the course is quieter than it has been.

12.00 – Andy hands me the bracelet for my final lap. He has time to briefly tell me he’s just had a huge crash. He’s laughing as he tells me he did a double forward somersault, but he also looks a little shocked. With Rob out of the equation, I’m now riding the team’s last lap.

13.00 – I’m back! It’s been an exhausting final lap, but the conditions have improved amazingly and the whole thing is rideable and thoroughly enjoyable again. I’ve dipped under the hour for the lap and wrung the last ounce of energy from myself. Photographer Joolze Dymond is a welcome and familiar face as I cross the line. She snaps away at me, despite my protestations that I’ve got a runny nose and a mask of sweat! Andy and Rob greet me and we chat as we drift back through the village. Many riders are still on course, squeezing in a final lap before the final cut-off. We’re done at 16 laps. In the circumstances it’s not a bad effort. Many regulars are reporting the conditions have been the worst ever. Whatever, the final couple of hours have made up for it with hot sunshine, a drying wind and a slick and fun course.

14.00 – Coffees all round as we watch the closing stages of the event. There’s a happy carnival atmosphere. We sit and celebrity-spot and soak up the sunshine. I rub the stubble on my chin and a clod of mud comes away in my hand. I must look a sight, but I’m not alone! We watch the podiums and marvel at the performance of the elite riders and the many heroes and heroines who make a special impact on the event with their displays of endurance and eccentricity.

16.00 – Having finally got packed up and on my way, I pull into a service station just south of Birmingham. I’m in danger of falling asleep. I make a pillow from a pile of bags and clothes on the passenger seat and fall instantly asleep. It’s been a massive weekend. I’m totally spent, but totally enthralled by the whole experience I vow to myself that I’ll be back next year and slip blissfully into unconsciousness.