Veteran Leaguer - LVRC

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