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If
Mogo was the Alpes, Awaba is the Pyrenees.
Gentle gradients and swooping non-technical descents are swapped for an
assortment of nasty pinches, technical, loose, shuddering plummets, jungle
warfare and general rugga-bugga. Whilst
both courses are climb-heavy, the buttocks and hands much prefer the former. In last year’s Awaba jaunt I did well until
the 5 hr mark when things started to go wrong in the engine room, culminating
in slipping from 2nd to off the podium on the last lap.
I
was hoping to maintain some good form after the Mogo triumph. This was largely intact despite spending the
intermediate Saturday in bed. Thankfully,
come race day the coughing had largely abated and I was again ready to roll. Had the phases of the moon been out by a
week, I’d likely have been a non-starter in both events. On the radar were a solid Bridgland astride a
Specialized dually, and what was sure to be a McAvoy revival, if Strava
rumblings were any indication. Like me,
Jason gambled on the hardtail option.
It
was announced at the briefing that number plates were now colour coded in one
of 4 flavours, to help seed the start. However, enjoying chit-chat with
Bridgland down the back had me miss this little technicality. By the time I registered my number plate was
red (= front runners) it was too late to push my way through. Anyway, I
was convinced it wouldn't count for too much over the 7 hours that were to
follow. By the time I was into the singletrack both Jason and Ian were
well out of sight and there was no doubt I was in for a long chase.
I'd
caught glimpses of Jason on the first lap but it wasn't until midway through
about the third lap that I finally made contact. Even sitting on, however, proved difficult due
to the pace and repeatedly getting gapped by traffic. Burning a match here, a match there, it was
status yo-yo before I was able to make my move on what was arguably the pivotal
piece of track for the day, the brutal camelback climb up the back of the
course. In last year's edition the course sidled through switchbacks to negotiate
the climb. This year it was straight up the guts for 200 meters of pinch
climb pain.
Tractoring
past I had my first twinges of cramp for the day - definitely not a good sign
so early. In any case, the effort had been expended, the weakness (hopefully)
disguised, and the gap was established. Not even a km later, however, I
undid it all by binning it on a tight loose right-hander. Having dusted
myself off and re-fitted the dropped chain (the second time for the day), I
then had to wait for Jason and a few others to file through before re-mounting
and continuing the descent. After all that lead up work I was back where
I was a lap prior.
Then,
in the blink of an eye, Jason was gone.
Even 10 sec on this course can be enough to put one largely out of
view. Psychologically, losing your
target can be a big factor for the chaser, especially when you are burning as
hot as you dare for no apparent gain. Hammer
time, and I couldn’t touch this! I lost
sight of Jason for maybe two laps, even on the bits where the course opens up. If he could maintain this pace that was
it. But every effort has to be paid for and all of a sudden he magically
reappeared on the track ahead.
Depending
on feeding and hydration one oscillates between just going through the motions
and spitting fire when all is in balance. I was enjoying a fast spell
when re-gaining contact, and this time made my pass definitive. Jason
offered me encouragement and the beta that Bridgland was just 3 min up the
track. The way I was travelling I believed that catching Ian was
inevitable, probably for both of us.
Like
I said, every effort has to be paid for, and my period of invincibility soon
spluttered in an almighty battle through cramp to even clean the camelback climb
later that lap. Back to chugging, focusing on just keeping
the rubber side down through the rough. Ed McDonald caught me at about
4:20 (late for me) so I knew the pace thus far had been quick. I was
hoping Bridgland would start to fade, but the gap, kindly provided by Kylie
McAvoy in the pit area, was holding firm at 3-4 min.
In
the last two hours survival trumped speed, with cramp never far away. The
hands were blistered from the corrugations and the lower back and arms were aching.
Such a tough track, mentally as well, offering very few places to switch
off or feed and drink. Near the end of my penultimate loop I noticed
Jason closing again through the switchback trees below, well inside a minute
back, coincidentally almost in the identical place as happened with Phil a year
ago.
All
in then, through gritted teeth for the 11th and last lap. I survived the
late scare, finishing just 2 min shy of Ian, who had a terrific outing, and,
like me last week, picked up his first 7 hr win. Awesome effort! Credit
to Jason for re-discovering some lost form (didn’t take long!) and pushing me
so hard throughout. He's been one of the enduro benchmarks for as long as
I've been racing fatties, so it's a thrill to be in a similar ring, if only
briefly, although I do think he needs to put more effort back into his swimming
;-).
The
aftermath. Well, it's Tuesday and I'm still trashed. I've honestly come out of 24 solos in better
nick. Mental note that a dually is the more appropriate tool for future dances
at Awaba.
