Every year a bunch of die hard singlespeeders gather for a 'race' - the UK singlespeed championships. In spite of the name its more of a social event than a competitive one but good bike riding is a key ingredient and a few do actually try to win. I wasn't one of them. I'd entered, as usual, after a few beers in a fit of enthusiasm to do a bike thing that wasn't going to be a multi hour marathon. Given that the venue was only just up the road at the Comrie Croft trail centre it seemed like a good idea at the time. The clincher was convincing my mate Rob to also do it and given that he hadn't done a race in about 25 years, this would be a sure fire way of ensuring I'd not try and do anything daft, like race....
Tea up
I rocked up on the Friday evening after work, pitched the tent and immediately got stuck into the beers. The on site bar was serving a Fallan Brewery offering brewed especially for the event called 'Golden Ratio' Geddit? Amazingly the weather forecast for the whole weekend was good - a miracle given what we've been having over the last few weeks. Info on the event had been sparse for someone like me who doesn't do f***book so I was largely unprepared. I'd dragged the Krampus out of the back of the garage the night before, washed it and ensured everything appeared to be working by way of a quick ride up and down the drive. I wasn't bothered as the course was a mash up of blue and red trails so I felt no need to do any other prep. Rob appeared a bit later so we had a few more beers and turned in at about midnight.
I woke the next morning to the unwelcome sound of rain and the unwelcome feeling of a sore head. Not a good start but the rain was just a brief shower and paracetamol sorted my head. Breakfast was laid on down at the cafe so we wandered down and ate rolls and drank tea whilst chatting to a few folk who'd also come down from Robs part of the world in lower Speyside. Thereafter I ate more food, wondering how much energy I'd need and as usual erring on the side of caution. I was also figuring what to take with me and came to the conclusion of nowt. The race route went right past my tent so if I got any kind of mechanical I could just freewheel or walk down the hill, sort it then get back out if I could be bothered. A key feature of the race is the mandatory beer stop each lap. At the pre-race briefing the organiser stated that the first three places would get a prize and everyone else would finish fourth. Nice one.
The start itself was a leisurely affair. We'd all parked up our bikes on the track that would be the first section (and climb) of the day and on the word of go, we all wandered up to grab our bikes and get going. A few jogged and I felt compelled to be one of them just to make sure I'd not get caught up in any traffic. The bugger with a single speed is that you only have one gear (obviously) and therefore only one speed. On a steepish climb this means a need to either turn the pedals at a knee wrenching slow space or a lung destroying normal cadence (or walk). I compromised with a mix of the two. My long distance legs and lungs would not tolerate a mad thrash as all that would happen would be that I'd go deep into the over-draft zone, never to return. Given that this was meant to be fun, I'd no intention of such a thing. That said I passed a fair few folk on the first climb before settling in between two riders of similar pace.
The start line....
The circuit was actually a peach and had all the right ingredients for an xc race:- big climb to string everyone out, brakes off descent into the first single track section to be taken absolutely flat out, lots of twisty / turny trails, a few short sharp ups to really test single speed prowess, a flat out blast down a fire road with a 120 degree turn at the bottom to test bottle and brakes, and a good mix of nadgery rooty / rocky stuff, some nice steps (up and down), a few tricky bits and the trail centre mandatory berm and jump bit, blessedly without horrible braking bumps due to it being more rock than dirt.
Heh heh, I'd forgotten how much of a laugh this was, given that it was a race you could go full bore without fear of upsetting anybody. Overtakes were also easy - people generally heard you coming thanks to the wheezing of lungs and the scraping of tyres every torturous pedal stroke or else you just said something like "excuse me but could I possibly pass you?" Which always elicited a polite response and quick side step. Everyone was cool and better yet, there was plenty of scope for a few good dices with people all round the route. On lap three I caught a guy just before the last bumpy bermy bit and he was obviously quick downhill, I risked everything to hang onto his back wheel so the two of us hammered down the trail rarely more than a bike length apart, massive grins all round.
I did fail on the beer stops however (which weren't actually mandatory). Just before the start I scoffed a banana which had immediately knotted up my stomach on the first climb. By the end of the first lap I was feeling decidedly icky so rode through the start line thinking I'd stop after the next lap. Up the climb I backed off and grabbed a few water bottles from helpful marshals en-route. My stomach settled down and I was feeling much better by the end of the lap so figured I should cash in on this and keep going. A good move as I hammered up the climb, cleaned everything (I'd had two fails on lap 1 and one on lap 2) and rode even harder on the descents, including the aforementioned mad chase on the last bit. I'd passed my mate Rob on this lap and had a quick catch up to see how his gearing was working. He'd gone with 22/20 on the basis that it would get him up the climb without too much strain and so far it had been spot on. Hmm, I was on my usual 32/21 but it had been too high as it required huge efforts on the climbs and most of the descent were freewheeling. Hey ho, too late to change now. That said I also passed a guy heroically riding a fixed gear. He had it off to a fine art and seemed to be riding strongly through everything. I made it clear that he need not go out of his way to let me past so got to check out his technique for a bit before he let me go by at the top of a climb. Top effort but the need to pedal all the way round made this something I didn't have the gumption to try....
Well so much for not racing. At the top of the climb you traversed a large rock outcrop with a group of marshals there to provide aid to anyone who blew up at this high point. One guy showed me three fingers. I says "Nah, I'm on my last lap". "No" he says back "your in third place".
Eh? I'm a 48 year old on a Surly Krampus, what happened to all the folk on the Ti and Carbon super light rigids??
Still, I'd not actually tried to get to this point so I figured I'd both honoured my original intentions for the event as well as honouring the organisers by giving it a good go. No-one was in sight behind so I took it a mite easier on the last descent, not wanting to crash out at this juncture. Most folk at the finish were too busy drinking beer so I pulled up quietly, looked across at the guys manning the finish table who smiled back and confirmed I was in third place. The race organiser shook my hand and I felt chuffed I'd done what I'd done and had a great laugh to boot. That said I had some catching up to do so crashed out it in the now blazing sunshine and drank four laps worth of beer. Rob turned up soon after having done three laps. We then lazed around in the sun chatting and drinking.
The evening was brilliant. I'd managed to grab a shower, we scoffed a large amount of the laid on hog roast, drank more fine ales, listened to good music and chatted to the wee small hours. I was somewhat self conscious at the presentation but I did feel absurdly pleased I must admit. Rob got best (and only) fat bike, last places got prizes, a box of freebies was laid out for everyone else to help themselves so everyone was a winner. Chatting in a group of folk later, one of the marshals was complementing me on my riding style when he said "I know you from somewhere"
"Yeah likewise but I'm not even going to try to remember from where"
"Green Krampus right? were you in Torridon a few years ago?"
"Yep 2013, the same week I broke my collarbone" (I recently dragged out a write up I did of this trip for the UK fat bike forum and edited for this blog - see here) He was one of the guys I'd met on the Annat descent and had a couple of beers with in the sun at the Torridon hotel before they headed back over to where their cars were.
Eventually I staggered off to bed and woke to more clear skies and another sore head. There was a ride planned for that morning but it left before we finished breakfast so after further sunbathing and chatting I packed up and headed home. Next year SSUK is to be in North Yorkshire so I reckon I'll have to do this one too!
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