A good nights sleep did me the world of good, I woke, slightly groggy but 'up for it' enough. The fit of nerves I was suffering the night before had subsided to a healthy level and we seemed to be up at a decent enough time. Plenty of riders were still at camp.
We all followed Fozzy up to the start feeling good on un-ladened bikes. The common piece of advice resonating in my mind... 'DON'T STOP!'
That was the last I saw of the others until the top.
One of the great things about biking is the camaraderie. I was given loads of tips and advice by other bikers who'd done lots of off-roading. The entire way up I tried to use all of it. Many of the techniques go against your natural reactions to things but I tried it all. I have no idea how long it took me but I can certainly say that I have never concentrated so hard and so long on anything else in my entire life! You couldn't drop the ball for a second.
The summit, as expected, was covered in snow. Regardless, I stood there, breathless and sweating in my t-shirt, grinning like the village idiot. I'd sat behind Fozzy the whole way up and, although I'd had my moments, hadn't dropped it once. Setting of so early there weren't a lot of other bikes up there either. It was, without doubt, THE most challenging terrain I've ridden to date. Exhilarating, exciting, fun and amazing. I was grinning the whole way up. Banked hairpins that you had to slide and power out of. Huge rocks and boulders had me bouncing from side to side in the pegs. Fording tiny streams was a hoot! A little over half way up was a huge rock across the whole track that I felt sure would see me off but the front end bumped up and I powered on hopping over in a flurry of grit, weaving my front end up in the air.
The track narrowed considerably toward the top and the hairpins tightened and steepened. The snow also added moisture so it got quite sloppy. A couple of times the back started to dig in and I had to feather it a bit. I was thankful for the XTX's relative light weight then.
After a bit of wandering about up there Rob turned up on his Vara to the disbelief of many. I must admit to being slightly in awe of this fete. The Vara is one large lump of a machine. Everyone noticed him arrive as it was losing traction and having difficulty parking. Just spinning on the spot. While I was over commending Baz on his triumphant mount someone dropped their bike to a raucous cheer. The camaraderie up there was brilliant and it was soon upright again and as it turned out it had been Simon (I believe he'd turned up at the same time as Rob just decided to park/drop his bike slightly further down the hill). Simon had only dropped it one other time on the way up. A brilliant job!
Some of the crossers were having a go at the snow peak (more often than not needing digging out), guys were sliding down the snow on their back protectors and everyone was grinning like fools.
After quite a while of exploring the peak we concluded that Paul must have turned back – almost as soon as it was suggested his green Tiger loomed over the last hairpin. All my adrenalin rushed back – I was so happy to see that he'd made it too! He only dropped it three times and that Tiger is another heavy lump.
More pictures, exploring and grinning. Lots of chatting with other riders. Everyone felt a connection for making the climb. It transpired that the medals and t-shirts were waiting for us half way down with a ham sandwich and a drink. Going down was a whole other story. Using just engine breaking and a touch of rear break I bounced down, in the pegs as much as I could manage. With the rear break you could slide it into the corners but the trick seemed to be to get back on the power ASAP to power out of it again. The whole way down I had to resist the urge to grab a handful of front break (sure to wash out the front end).My new boots were getting well and truly worn in. I was at the front this time, Fozzy kept just behind me but I lost the other again until we stopped for medals.
There was a lot of traffic now going both ways making it very difficult. A lad I'd met the night before went over in a corner on his Africa Twin right in front of me. He was OK and up again in no time. He'd had to stop for traffic and had no where to put his feet. Rob and Paul were at the back of our lot, respectively, and Rob managed to get the last medal of the day so Paul's is in the post.
Towards the bottom I was really getting into it and throttling a little harder than I should have been, I struggled to rein it in a bit to be honest but when you see these crossers hooning past you it all looks so easy! Back on the tarmac and I was still buzzing, giving it fistfuls in all the corners... until a 4x4 came the other way and I managed to lock up both wheels in an attempt not to become a hood ornament. That near miss woke me up and I slowed it down a bit. Well, a bit at least.
Into town, looking dusty and road weary, for a spot of lunch. The tiny town was heaving with bikes. Then back to camp after a traumatic fuel stop (self service – don't ask!). The weather was on the turn so we opted for well deserved showers and a spot of R&R. All the pain in my knee came back now (I'd felt nothing on the way up thanks to 400mg Ibroprufen and 600 megatons of Adrenalin). The five of us got taxi's into town that night (inc. Fozzy) and had some VERY large beers followed by more beers back at camp. The rain was thumping down now but at least we stayed dry for the climb.
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