Erstellt am: 10. 6. 2014 - 10:05 Uhr

The Giddying Trails of Austria

The 4 Peaks mountain bike race separates the wheat from the chaff. I'm chaff.

It was a bit like games of rugby during my school days. I spent a lot of my time prostrate in the mud, wondering what was happening to me and vaguely wishing Mum was there to pick me up.

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The Fleckalm, a steep, muddy, descent from the Hahnenkamm in Kitzbühel down to Kirchberg in Tyrol is renowned as one of the most iconic and delightful stretches of single-trail riding in Austria, but it was making rather a fool of me.

There are twisty off-camber turns and the roots of the trees emerge from the mud like the rib-cages of half-buried elephants. There were other hapless riders ahead and behind me and a lot of yelling and cursing. "We have a lot of mud and roots in Ireland," said one rider, Chris, "but I have never ridden anything this tough."

Summing up my remaining courage, I clicked back into my pedals and slid over onto my side for the third time. It didn’t hurt anything more solid than my pride, but my nerves were shot. The more I fell, the more nervous I felt, and the stiffer my arms became. I braked in panic and slid over again.

"I saw some women ahead who were riding really well and they took the air of their tyres," said Jason from South Africa, "I'm going to try that."

This is where the World Championships for marathon mountain biking were held last year and if you are brave and technically adept, I’m assured, it is fun. Being neither, I was beginning to feel rather desperate.

The technical single-trails are an essential component of the 4 Peaks mountain bike race, designed to separate the wheat from the chaff. As I lay on the ground with my bike on top of me, I realised I was chaff.

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The 4 Peaks, a 4 day stage race, is like nothing I ever rode before. The course, running exclusively through Austria’s most spectacular landscape, was set by race organizer Marc Schneider who told me: “We have selective trails in all stages. The third stage is almost entirely on trails. It is pure mountain biking.”

Adrenaline Rush or Trauma?

And that is what we mountain bikers want, apparently.
Bored of endurance tests of lung-capacity and leg strength, we yearn, apparently, for the adventure of the trails.

And I subscribe to that - in theory.

But it is a bit like freeride skiing – it’s great to talk about it in the bar, but then when you find at the top of a steep slope, you have to pull it off in practice.

With dozens of other riders coming down behind you, some of them decidedly impatient, the experience balances on that narrow ridge between an adrenaline rush and a trauma.

Testing Yourself Against the Very Best

The magic of these mountain bike stage races is that they are open to cyclists of any speed, technical ability or experience. We all ride the exact same course, so two or three hours after the professionals like Austria’s Alban Lakarta or 4 Peaks winner Christoph Sauser whizz by chasing the prize money, you’ll see red-faced amateurs like me just aiming to finish in one piece.

It is a bit like being allowed down the Streif a couple of hours after Bode Miller.

When the difference is measured in time, it is merely statistical but there is something very solid about the difference in trail riding ability. I looked in astonishment at a 50cm drop-off onto a steep, rock-strewn path that led into a 90 degree turn. How does anyone ride this? But the pros do. And with ease.

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Part of the way down the Fleckalm I bumped (literally) into another Irishman called Tim and he gave me some useful tips: “Just look ahead, don’t follow the guy ahead – pick your own line and stay on the brakes.”

So I did, I came screeching down with the brakes full on arriving triumphantly in the finish only to get a tremendous telling off from Alicio, an Italian mechanic, who was charged with fixing my poor red bike. It had limped over the finish line making funny clicking noises and emitting a worrying burned smell:

“You brake far too much. My friend, you have totally destroyed your bike,” he said in melancholy resignation. It was as if I had mistreated a horse. As I stood there, exhausted and chastened, he wheeled off my squeaking, wobbling red friend to face an emergency operation.

But isn’t sport about pushing your boundaries? Alicio pushed his Alicio, announced proudly that he had engineered a “miracle” to make my red bike fit again, adding that he was keeping my old brake pads as a sign of idiocy to astound his friends back home. I retook charge of the Red Dragon and set out to push my boundaries. I would prove everyone, including myself, wrong: I would ride the tough trails and I would enjoy it!

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I wasn’t the only one finding conditions tough. Riders had come from all over the world to test themselves on some of Austria’s most spectacular trails. “The 4 Peaks is tougher than anything we ever rode in South Africa,” Johannesburg’s Mark Cottrell told me as we panted up a mountain together. “It has been a real eye-opener for me. But I just can’t get over how gorgeous the riding is!” I met riders from Argentina, Australia, Spain, Sweden and Poland:

“We don’t have mountains this high in Poland,” gasped Pole Marek, as we reached a stretch above the Wildkogel where snow still streaked the mountainside, “Let’s go and ride in Poland then!” I answered grimly.

Some of the international riders took it all in their stride. Over breakfast I chatted with Angela Parra from Colombia who thought riding in Austria was a great opportunity and, during the day, was right in the mix for top placements. “I love riding here,” she said, with a fearless smile.

Angela was riding with a team of young Costa Ricans headed by Dax Heikel – “We love Austria. We decided to bring a whole team to see how we could do and to measure up against the best riders in Europe.”

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Dax points out that Costa Rica is a bastion of mountain-biking. The Central American country is home to some of the fiercest trails in mountain biking, such as the 1000m descent from Cerro de la Muerte, and some of the first stage races. But isn’t it hard adapting to racing in the Alps? “We have to pack some extra clothes, because we do get cold,” says Dax. “But I think it is easier for us to adapt to these conditions than Europeans racing in the humidity of the cloud forest.”

With such inspirational breakfast companions I could hardly give up. So I licked my wounds and on Day 3 I was off again with new brakes, determined to try and prove I could do it after all. As a day of almost unadulterated trail riding drew to a close, I found myself headed down to Neukirchen Am Großvenediger on a course that cut a jagged line across the brown Pinzgau mountainside.

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When I wasn’t staring at my front wheel, I could see the snowy triangle of Austria’s second highest mountain winking over my left shoulder. This was the sort of biking I have dreamed about but never done.

Then on the final stage I made an 800 metres single track decent without once clipping out of my pedals, hopping over rocks, leaning into the corners and even for at least 10 metres, letting go of the brakes. On this trail the roots were gone; it was just a stretch of soft brown earth winding its way through a tunnel of greenery.

With alpine flowers lighting up the mountain forests and bees in the lower slopes, it was a jolting, jarring but exhilarating descent. I think I might have even smiled through my gritted teeth.

A day after mouthing my retirement from mountain biking I’d fallen in love with the sport again.

Freundlicher Unbekannter

Chris Cummins rides on

That night, when the aching in my arms, neck faded into a fuzzy glow of satisfaction, I knew I had overcome my fear and pushed my own boundaries. I don’t have to retire to Eisstockschießen yet.