How does it feel for an average Joe to do a World Cup? According to Paul Robertson: "expletive deleted amazing." Read the full story from the man who has gone from riding the British XC Series to braving the sight of Wolfram Kurschat in pants and the baddest, toughest World Cup out there; Bromont, Canada.
That was amazing. Sitting here in bed the morning after and I'm still on a high, because yesterday was round six of the mountain bike World Cup in Bromont, Canada and I finished 84th. This may not sound very special to most but to me the taking part was very much the main thing - that and becoming the fastest hairy legged XC rider in the world. I wasn't ever going to win but I didn't care.
The whole World Cup experience is something I recommend if you are able to suffer the pain to the wallet. I guess I did it the hard way. I earned my 32 UCI points last year whilst being in the Expert class and was from then on set to compete in any of the rounds this year. Or at least that's what I had thought.
Doing my usual of not reading the rules properly I booked time off for early September and round seven of the World Cup only to be told my points would be invalid by this time. Arrrrgh! Panic!
Eventually I found out it would be possible to race. But it would be in just seven days. In Canada. And this was my last chance saloon of completing an ambition because come December I'll be a first time dad, putting an end to any high-level racing.
ON THE ROAD
With my flights and car booked, a hotel arranged, telling work I was taking some days off and the friendly and helpful Alison Johnson from British Cycling having entered me to the race for once my plan was all coming together, even if it was gonna cost me an arm and a leg.
My last few days at work were as hectic as usual with some big deadlines coming up and some disgruntled clients to keep happy by working late as usual and then fitting some hard training in set by my coach Dr Garry Palmer of Sportstest it was far from ideal preparation.
Some more late nights cleaning, prepping and rebuilding my bike before squeezing it into a nice 34-kilo package and I was ready to face check in.
Amazingly I made it through baggage without a penny to pay before saying my goodbyes to my wife, long standing aide and number one bottle feeder Claire who couldn't come having been advised not to travel whilst pregnant. I was now on my own and my adventure had begun. Six hours literally flew by and we arrived in Montreal after a pleasant flight speaking to a mad professor type who was head of maths at Montreal University.
GETTING THERE - SOMEHOW
We were an hour late and there was a long wait in passport control, the hire car place couldn't have been further away especially hulking my damn bike bag. I was tired and starting to get irritable. Bags in the car I realised I was badly organised with only a tiny map only readable through a microscope, in a strange country driving a big automatic car on the wrong side of the road with strange signs and aggressive looking drivers in their even bigger Dodge's..
It's safe to say I was shitting myself. Pitch black and now 11.30pm (4.30am UK) I eventually found my hotel. Apologies for my extreme lateness accepted, my first impressions were not good. A rickety back stairway entrance, paint flaking off every surface of the entirely wooden creaky structure, I was expecting cockroaches, the works.
Fortunately once inside it improved, not least of all when I was then introduced to a half naked, pants wearing, top five in the World-rankings Wolfram Kurschat.
"Here is your fellow competitor" was the introduction; a scorned look up and down made me feel two inches high. I could only wonder what I was doing here, completely out of my depth.
Waking to the sound of rain and huge trucks thundering along the road I was still feeling bad having not had the best nights sleep. My morale was low. There was no restaurant to the hotel but a self catering kitchen which stank of fish after a Wolfram and Robert rice feast. I had no food and no idea where to find it. I was in the middle of nowhere.
I decided to build my bike and see if everything was ok. All present and correct. The Auberge hotel owner Mark turns up and sorts me out with directions to the nearest shop and how to get to the venue. There nearest shop is thankfully 100 yards away at the back of a quaint hardware store which only sells the bare essentials. The next shop is 10km away! Everything is vastly spread out. This is a big country.
TRACKSIDE
Having picked up some basic essentials I head for the venue to get some practice laps in. The entire mountain side and course is saturated. A mixture of rock, roots and mud is the order of the day. I pick up my number board having paid 73 dollars for the privilege.
A couple of laps of the course and I'm shitting myself again. Quite a few sections of the course are not ridable, well by me any ways and even though I'm trying to go round as slowly as possible to conserve energy there are riders blasting past me. The early climbs are very steep and traction is pretty hard. Some sections I re-ride several times to work out the best line and fail miserably. I watch as others sail over massive rooty switchbacks. I follow a couple of Canadian girls who clear every section. I watch Margarita Fullana do a bad job of a few sections so feel slightly better. Putting the power down on a greasy muddy climb Absalon sails past. Git!
An off camber section with multiple slabs and roots has me stumped and I can't find a decent line. I watch several riders go for the high line, Chris Jongeward shoots through. A short conversation with Catharine Pendrel who is also figuring which is the best line too. This course is technical and made worse by the rain. Tyre choice is gonna be critical and luckily I have brought every tyre combination except some full on mud tyres! Doh! My second lap is better and my confidence slightly restored. I remind myself that all I have to do is get round.
A bike clean, some food and back to the hotel. Wolfram and Robert from team Ergon Topeak are chowing down on the biggest mountain of rice, vegetables and scrambled eggs I have ever seen. They have skipped course practice today having done it the previous day and tell me how technical the courses are over in Canada and how different they are in Europe. It's really interesting to hear how the pros do things and I'm heartened In a way that I picked the most technical. Grrrreat!
ONE DAY TO GO...
Saturday arrives and my worries over the course are in my mind and instead of taking a day of rest as prescribed I head to the course for another couple of laps. It's damp early on so I wear my longs and long sleeve top. It soon heats up and the longs are a bad choice. I must have looked rather beetroot like on the climbs and desperately tried to look cool whilst chatting to Emily Batty and her dad in the car park. The course is drying in places making parts more ridable and others harder as the slush turns to gloopy mud. I get more confidence in the sections that I was rubbish at the day before. I guess practice does makes perfect or marginally better in my situation.
An hour or so I spend changing tyres, brake pads and swapping cassettes over. I opt for an 11-34 with my 42/28 up front. The course would be perfect for the current trend of a single ring up front. I also opt for a Maxxis Rendez on the front and a Larsen TT running backwards for more traction. At this point the weather is forecast to be dry for the rest of the weekend. I'm getting excited which is odd for me. At the NPS I'm usually nervous and pessimistic the day before and get worse leading up to the race. There is no pressure and I'm determined to enjoy the whole experience. Watching the women's downhill gets me a little more excited and still can't get over how stupidly fast they go. I need to head back so miss the blokes runs.
Saturday afternoon is spent continually cleaning my bike at the back of Marks lovely 200 hundred year old classic style wooden house in glorious sunshine. Bjorn the mechanic from team Ergon also joins me cleaning all their team bikes which gives me a little time to get some sneaky pics of the bikes including Irina Kalentiava's tiny wee bike. Satisfied my bike is working sweetly I whip up an enviable ravioli feast and head to bed early.
RACE DAY
Sunday morning arrives and the weather looks good. I've woken at 6.00 am again not able to get rid of the jet lag. The race starts at 2.30pm so I have plenty of time. I mosey on down to the venue about 20km away and feel the buzz already. The women are warming up on the roads outside and it's like a who's who of racing. Christoph Sauser and Jose Hermida are also out! Bit keen me thinks.
I wander up to the course and watch the women line up and head off. I weakly cheer Kate Potter and Suzanne Clarke resplendent in her new national kit. Kate comes round mid pack and Suzanne pretty much last trailing in with a puncture. The first of two! The rain starts in trickles toward the end of the women's race and gets harder by the minute. I get my bike out pop on my trusty crud guard, get changed and attempt a warm up. I only have a very basic waterproof which does very little to keep me dry and within minutes I'm soaked through but in a strangely pleasant warm way. All the pro's are huddled in their posh shelters and are on their turbos while I get properly acclimatized!
The time comes for the call up which takes forever! They even call my name up, well chuffed and very very wet. Virtually every rider has some helper providing umbrella shelter but not billy no mates here.
Bang! The gun goes off, I play it cool and head off with a good start staying out of trouble. There is a bottle neck at the first corner and most of us at the back are off and pushing. It's way less intense than an NPS or it could be my unusually cool self. For the first half lap it's a bit of pedalling and bit of pushing. Settling down into the lap I have no problems and I clear all the tech sections with aplomb. I decide to take one lap at a time expecting to get pulled on the second or third.
I come round for the second lap and the encouragement is great! Another lap down and no pull. At the end of this second lap the course is already changing with some good lines disappearing and others appearing from nowhere. The rain is relentless and my rear brake has now worn through. On my third lap I start to flag a little although I consistently lap about three minutes down on the leaders. I get round pretty well as the riders are thinning out. I have a few good battles with some US riders who catch me up on the downhills but I get a gap on the hillclimbs and techy sections.
At the end of the lap I'm amazed they let me through again. I enjoy my fourth lap with the great support from the French speaking spectators lining the climbs 'Allez, allez, allez, Angleterre, paul!' which make me push a little harder. I have a couple of spills in the slippery technical wood sections but nothing to stop me.
Toward the end of the lap I hear the motorbikes coming which means the leader is coming soon. Reaching the large rock garden Geoff Kabush is on my arse so I swing off to let him through. A few more twists and turns and my race is over as I get pulled. There is mud and grit in every orifice and is one of the worst conditions I have known for any MTB race ever. However, I'm the happiest I've ever been.
84 out of 122 odd ain't bad. My position was kind of irrelevant as my aim was to just do the race. Ambition fulfilled. I just wish Claire had been here to experience the whole thing with me.
