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Croc Trophy Stage 9: Queen Stage, and 2nd place for Biscuit

Kalpowar – Starke. 148km, 600m

 

Day nine. At this point we were well into a longer stage race than any of us on the Subaru-MarathonMTB.com Team had done before. Various TransAlps, the ABSA Cape Epic, iterations of the Sudety MTB Challenge, Scody Cups – none of those go beyond eight days in their current formats. But here we were pinning numbers on, signing and weighing in for yet another stage.

 

Some people are coping better than others. Unfortunately we had news that Urs Huber had pulled out, due to a fever. So I suppose that means doing an 85km turn isn’t good for you. Write that one down kids.

 

As a team, we decided our key goal was to keep Graeme in the Masters Leader Jersey, and protect his and Justin’s position in the General Classification as best as possible. As any of the top 5 or 6 would be unlikely to be allowed to go up the road, this meant we only needed to follow moves that contained a couple of danger riders.

 

The gun went and we crossed the obligatory croc infested river (actually, Kiwi Carl did spot a 3-4m salty about 200m downstream) before the customary mild attacks, surges and regroupings. Haselbacher went up the road again, and in time was joined by Hulsmans, Be Rad Davies and Ashley.

 

The next 65km were some of the most boring kilometres I have spent on a bike. Jeroen did most of the time in the wind. There was a small crash, and we did need to regroup, but otherwise affairs were pretty slow.

 

Then came Depot 2 and the carnage began. If you aren’t European, you are already disadvantaged at the Depots, unless the course is open for your support crew. Attacking in feeds doesn’t seem to be a faux pas at the Croc Trophy either. Depot 2 was at the start of 50km of rough, sandy terrain. As expected, the race blew to pieces. The break had held a 7 minute advantage, but Ash was already back. Riders were scattered, many searching for rideable terrain tens of metres off the trail and into the scrub. Those who could ride sand were lucky. Those who struggled were dropped.

 

Graeme did a spectacular job of looking after himself yet again. Justin was picking up his Camelbak that had been at Depot 2. I had figured I was good to go and powered through the early sandy sections – until I realised that power wasn’t unlimited and I was hurting and fading fast. I put a gel in and sucked down fluid, but to no avail. Pedaling squares, I lost sight of everything and everyone.

 

Thankfully, things were being taken care of upfront. Graeme had got himself into a fantastic position and was able to make use of it.

 

”I didn’t really plan to do anything flash on this stage. On the road section I was feeling pretty sore and sorry with the monotonous corrugations. When we got to Depot 2 and the start of the much talked about bull dust, I just tried to keep moving forwards. Riders were everywhere making their own tracks in the scrub around the sand pit. I just ploughed on and found myself alone and thought that I may as well just keep driving on. I sort of got into a rhythm and found the sand not so bad and faired probably a lot better than a lot of the heavier and more road oriented riders. Riding with clear sight lines through the sand and at my own pace really worked well for me. At one stage one of the Korean riders joined me which helped keep the speed up. He suffered a bit in the heat towards the end and I was able to press on and cross the line in second place. Although a fair way behind Jeroen, The Milka Kid, who’s leader’s jersey was only slightly damp from mild perspiration while I was soaked from head to toe. I am pretty happy with myself right now. But well and truly ready for the end of Day 10 and Croc Trophy 2011.”

A decent campsite today would have been nice. Instead we will have to wait for tomorrow. We are in some burnt out scrub fighting for pathetic shade from trees with bare limbs. One of the trucks broke down again, so dinner may not happen. This isn´t great when you are in the middle of nowhere. Starke by name, stark by nature.

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