Erstellt am: 2. 6. 2010 - 22:37 Uhr
La Nostalgie de la Boue
Chris Cummins berichtet vom Trans Germany 2010:
- La Nostalgie de la Boue - The Trans Germany 2010 starts in a downpour. I get wet.
- The Forrest Gump Blues- Stage 2 of the Trans Germany through a flooded Tyrol
- Ever Onwards Ever Upwards - Wanting to stop on Day 3 of the Trans Germany
- Ab ins Ländle - I belly flop exhausted over the Trans Germany finishing line at the Bodensee
Robin Hood is beguiling audiences this wintry summer by riding around in the mud and the rain with a grim look on his face. Well anything Russell Crowe can do, I can do too (apart from looking good in sandals). So I decided to race the Trans Germany mountain bike race again.
It spends much of its time in Austria this year and ends in Bregenz, the emblem of the Golden West. And with only four stages, I thought, for a change, I might even finish it this time. After all, what could possibly go wrong? In June...
trans germany 2010
But the day of stage 1 started ominously. The rain was pelting hard against the window panes as I ate my eggs in the pretty little pension in Bavarian Garmisch. The table cloth was waxed and checkered blue and white and non-alcoholic Weißbier was available for breakfast. My landlord followed my gaze out of the window to the mountain slopes of Garmisch that I would soon be ascending. They were totally enshrouded in cloud and looked sodden.
"Don't you think I'm brave, going out mountain bike racing in weather like this?" I asked him cheerfully.
He gave the question some thought, stroking his blond moustache as he did so. Then finally, in his slow soothing voice, he replied: "No, I think you're ganz verrückt."
As I stood with my bike in the cobbles of Garmisch and the rain continued to stream down, I wondered whether the wise old boy might have had a point. But once I got on my bike, thickly packed into an excitable peleton with thoughts drowned out by the whirr of pedals and bike-chains, I was 100% back in my bike racing fantasy. The boys from Scott had lent me a light weight full-suspension "Spark" bike that was a joy to ride and I felt great. I was Marco Pantani before he was associated with pharmaceuticals. I was Floyd Landis before we knew about the testicle patch. I was going to eat those mountains.
trans germany 2010
As it turned out I actually drank them. The spray of a thousand wheels ahead of me churning up the water that was running down the track assured me of that. Nutritious water - full of Spurenelemente. Little rivers were running down the tracks and my feet were squelching. It was also freezing cold - like riding in November. I was riding next to a guy from California. He said his training ground was the Red Wood singletrails, but he was taking in the race of as part of his European holiday. I asked him what he thought of the weather? His answer was drowned out by the slaking of our tires as we hit another puddle.
There were 1,200 starters this year - three times as many as last year. That has its pitfalls, particularly at the beginning of a race. 15 minutes into the race I stopped to put on my emergency warm shirt and about 300 people passed me. It would take me about 3 hours of Lewis Hamilton overtaking maneuvers, to regain those places. And the next time that I want a pee, I'm going to wee down my leg and I don't care what you all think. At least it will be warm.
chris cummins
Soon I was beginning to feel more like Ivan Basso than Pantani the Pirate. Every climb I would huff and puff and gradually overtake riders, and every descent a terrible cowardice would take control of me and they would all retake me and bring their friends with them. Still, after crossing into Austria and climbing arduously up to the Ehrwalderalm, there was a timely reminder of the need for a healthy respect for this sport. A helicopter blocked the route, a rider had been bucked by unexpected bump in the terrain and had to be airlifted to hospital.
chris cummins
Up here the rain felt like sheets of ice and among those in the crowd waiting for the track to be cleared I saw a few lips looking almost bluish with cold. I could no longer feel my fingers, which was a bit inconvenient because I had rather hoped to use them for braking on the vertiginous descent down to Ehrwald.
Now, I knew this terrain very well, having spent a year living in the village when I was an English Native Speaker at a local school, the stage finish was at Lermoos, and Lermoos was just a kilometre away from Ehrwald. Which meant, more importantly, so was warm shower. At the bottom of the descent I started to sprint like a mad man. My arms were ready to be thrust to the sky in a Cavendish glory salute - and then they directed us away from Lermoos and up another mammoth climb. I hadn't read the road card. What's that word that rhymes with duck?
trans germany 2010
Still after an hour or so of cursing and an adventurous slide down a single track of gooey mud I was in the finish after all - in 431st position bitte schön - and was once again being offered more non-alcoholic beer (sorry but what is the point?). As I wandered off in search of a warm drink, I caught sight of a friend. His face was so caked in grime it seemed like he'd been down a coal mine for a few days. He looked ridiculous. I laughed mockingly at the poor sod. Then I caught a glimpse of my own face in his cycling glasses...
More rain is forecast for stage 2. A low over Hungary, don't you know? Again, what's that word that rhymes with duck?
(The average British citizen will spend 6 months of his life talking about the weather)