Veteran Leaguer - LVRC

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Tour of the Abberleys 2011 - a sideways view from the back by Patrick Douglas Prologue You know you’re in bad shape when, whilst tackling the short hill at Berrow Green, you’re not even confident about staying in the bunch. I used to be great at climbing, or at least I thought I was. I once nearly beat Chris Young for a hill prime, does second count? I once nearly won a road race at Ripponden in the Pennines. I was once the third counting guy that allowed Airedale Olympic to win the YCF hill climb team prize. How had it all changed? Well, all that was 25 years, two stone, and half a lifetime ago. Ever the optimist I decided to enter the Tour of The Abberleys, probably the LVRC’s leading stage race. It was nearly game over for everyone before a pedal had turned as Stuart Hall the organiser, not the 1970s Mancunian wordsmith and football pundit, had to pull out due to work commitments, with a few weeks to go. Mike Amery and Sean O’Toole with volunteers from Solihull CC, Worcester St Johns and many others, very kindly stepped in to pick up the race and ensure its continuing success. My wife and I travelled down from Leeds the day before the start and stayed in a nearby B&B, so that I would be well rested for the morrow. I’ve got to say that it’s probably the best B&B we’ve ever stopped in. When we arrived we were served with home made cheesecake and plum cake with lashings of tea, served with a china service, overlooking manicured gardens with views of Abberley church in the distance. I can’t tell you where it is though, just in case I race there next year, they’ve only got one bedroom and I don’t want anyone else to nab it! Prior to the race, I could have taken every single prize on offer. A bold claim you may think, but I could have easily done it. Easily. Not by winning every stage and prime, but instead, by walking off with the envelope containing all the prizes, kindly donated by Epic Cycles. I first met Phil, the proprietor of the bike shop, a number of years ago as we travelled out to ride the Gran Fondo Campagnolo, but that’s a whole separate story. This time, we met up the night before the race and Phil asked me to pass the envelope to Mike Amery. Stage 1 – TT 3.5miles Woodbury Hill How hard could it be to race for 3.5 miles? Well, judging by the number of riders coughing their guts up, back at the HQ after the stage finished, pretty hard. In fact Abberley Village Hall sounded more like a 1920s TB clinic than a race HQ. Loads of old guys with consumptive hacking coughs sprawled out all over the place. Earlier that morning they’d all been healthy, tanned, lean, veteran riders. But that was before the time trial. I had a great result – second. Actually it was second last. I’ve always hated time trials so I avoid riding them. Maybe I’ve avoided riding at all too much? Looking around me though, at the wheezing casualties in variable states of distress, I wondered why I was the only person whose lungs felt, and sounded, normal. Then the kernel of an answer entered my mind. Maybe I hadn’t pushed myself hard enough in the TT? Though, at least I thought, I wouldn’t be ruined for stage 2. Stage 1b The organisers hadn’t planned for a stage 1b, but they also hadn’t planned for one of the windiest weekends on record. The ride back to the changing room at the village hall should have been easy. Think about it – a hill climb prologue should mean an easy descent but it didn’t quite feel like that as we retraced the route. Then, of course, there was the small matter of climbing back up the A443, which is mostly a 1 in 8. No wonder all those riders looked so ill back at the HQ afterwards! Stage 2 We had to ride up Woodbury Hill again. As if we hadn’t had enough first time. Luckily though, it was neutralised so at least I didn’t get dropped. The circuit was 5 laps of the Wichenford, Ockeridge, Hill Side, Martley loop with, you guessed it, Berrow Hill thrown in at the end to make it easier for the judges to spot the placings. I’d done this circuit before, the last time I did the Abberleys. On that occasion I’d punctured on the first lap descending from Hill Side so I hoped for better luck this time. The circuit is one of the reasons why the Abberley’s is so wonderful to race in. The riders pass through some of the most wonderful rural countryside the nation can offer. Small lanes, orchards coming into flower, warm sun, sleepy villages, tall hedgerows, country pubs. A rural idyll and may it never change. The signing and the marshalling was great on the route here, as there were several hard left turns onto seemingly ever smaller roads. Meanwhile, several of the riders at the front were trying to break away and the speed was going up and up. On one of the laps, the speed was brutal as we flashed through the villages. Another left turn and onto one of those roads that looks as if it should be flat and easy, but instead, I found myself changing down the gears whilst my heart rate changed up the gears! Within a few hundred yards I felt I was at my limit. You know when you are about to get dropped? As a responsible rider, you take a look around to check that you aren’t going to take anybody else out of the back? I took the look back, about to blow, but by some determination, or maybe it was a miracle, I managed to hang on. Later on, a strange thing happened. I started riding near the yellow jersey wearer. Normally that would mean riding at or near the front. I took a look around me. No, pretty definitely about two thirds of the way back in the bunch. Maybe he’d just dropped back for a moment, I thought. Then I took a closer look at him. The poor fella was blowing big time, looked like he’d got super hunger knock. When the road flattened out or went downhill, he’d ride back to the front, but on every uphill stretch, he’d drop way back. People reckon that you should ride a TT so that you leave nothing behind, totally empty yourself. He’d certainly done that, having taken a convincing win in the prologue, but now he was paying the price. A final sprint up Berrow Green concluded the stage. Page 16 The Veteran Leaguer: Autumn 2011
Stage 2b Same as stage 1b except a bit longer this time, just as tough. Stage 3 “Sorry lads, there’s going to be trouble. They’re organising a protest in one of the villages against the race.” So explained Mike, the organiser. “I’m not sure what will happen but I’m going to go out there and find out what their concerns are. Just be prepared to stop if I ask you to.” Gosh. He certainly had our attention. One gets used to a certain amount of anti-cycling feeling in built up urban areas where I’m from, but it was something of a surprise down here in the heart of rural Worcestershire. “It’s not too far after you turn left after Berrow Green.” Images of French farmers burning sheep or throwing tons of fruit in the road sprang to mind. Bernard Hinault was once in a race that was stopped by protesters. His way of dealing with it was to punch one of them in the face. They were, he explained, preventing him from doing his job. Woodbury Hill was, thankfully, neutralised again. I was chatting to one of the lads on the ride out. He’d done ok in the first couple of stages and was in 4th overall. “I’m in a different race to you.” I explained “It’s more to do with seeing if I can get round without being dropped.” The first time up Berrow Hill was hard but I made it with the bunch. All I had to worry about then were the demonstrators. I expected tractors to be dragged across the road. Piles of tyres on fire. People with placards telling us to go back home. Mike had obviously done a great job as not a single protester could be seen. Another warm and windy day, some more fabulous rural roads to be raced on. Then we turned left. I think the Paris- Roubaix organisers had been out here to lay down some real rough roads, just for their personal amusement. Gosh, the road surface was shocking. For a good mile or so, we might as well have been riding a spring classic in Belgium. There was no clear line to take, bottles were jumping put of their cages, guys were pointing out the worst holes. People were praying their rims were strong enough, then, as suddenly as it had started, it finished. We were back on a lovely smooth fast road. Another couple of miles later the shout came down the bunch to watch out. In the middle of the road, on its own, a huge sharp lipped, tyre blowing pot hole. Luckily we all missed it. Second time up the approach to Berrow, I was in the wrong position. I knew I was in the wrong place, but I wasn’t strong enough to move up. Consequently I got dropped. I was on my own. What if the protesters suddenly appeared and mugged me? The C plus group set off ten minutes behind so I decided to ride at a reasonable pace and await “the catch.” I think I did about a lap and a bit before I was caught. All I had to do then was sit at the back of the group, which wasn’t so bad. The subsequent climbs up Berrow Green weren’t too bad, in other words I got up it OK with the group. I then realised, or so I thought, that my problem was that I was getting too old to ride with the A’s and B’s. I was giving eight years away to some of the younger guys. Yes, that was it, definitely getting too old. An old mate of mine, Tony May, got third on the stage in the C plus group. He was originally from the Midlands, less than twenty miles from the Abberleys, but has spent most of his adult life as a displaced person in the wonderful county of Yorkshire. It was his first race for eleven years and the placing was a demonstration of his pure class, at least that’s what he told me recently! He’s one of the funniest guys I’ve ever met and I always enjoy riding with him. A chat with Gaz Hill in the changing rooms afterwards didn’t exactly confirm my feelings about getting too old for the A’s and B’s. “I tell you what, it was absolutely brutal last year going up Berrow Green. I was really chewing the stem. It was absolute murder, every single lap.” If a guy like Gaz Hill says it was tough, then it must have been dire. Maybe it wouldn’t be so easy with the C’s and D’s for me in future after all. Anyway, I finished at the back of the group and hung around for a short while afterwards. “The best I’ve gone for a long time. I had great legs, then look at what happened.” One of the Ferryhill Wheelers guys was complaining bitterly at his bad luck. I think he’d been away with another guy and had whacked into the aforementioned pot hole, puncturing his back tyre. He had no way of getting back to HQ on a flat tyre so, after finding out that he was using Campag ten speed, I lent him my back wheel. I had a lift back in the car as my wife had brought it to near the finish. No stage 3b for me this time! This was my third time riding the Abberley’s and I’m sure, like many others, I had seen the signposts for Witley Court but not known what it was. Time to investigate, post stage. Witley Court was one of the finest English Country Houses, most notably added to by the Dudley family who, it seemed, owned massive interests in Midlands manufacturing, coal mining etc. The site is absolutely huge. It changed hands in The Veteran Leaguer: Autumn 2011 Page 17
Page 1 and 2: The Veteran Leaguer Autumn special
Page 3 and 4: From the Chair Don Parry The Execut
Page 5 and 6: Announcements, additions and amendm
Page 7 and 8: 2. By the executive committee. That
Page 9 and 10: Results 2011 TUESDAY 3rd MAY - REGI
Page 11 and 12: Results 2011 THURSDAY 19th MAY - RE
Page 13 and 14: Results 2011 Ruta, Barnsley RC E, 6
Page 15: Percy Stallard Series 2011 SUNDAY 5
Page 19 and 20: Vehicle Excise Duty for Cyclists? b
Page 21 and 22: Book reviews By Dick Selley & Gordo
Page 23 and 24: Point of view by Tom McCall I want

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