Today was something of a bitter-sweet day for Jeff and me. Again I had those feather legs from yesterday, and Jeff was feeling better too; today was not as hot as yesterday, and he was better acclimatised. Our tactics seemed to work well again, and we found ourselves towards the end of the stage with just the yellow jerseys and the strong Kenyan team (lying fourth) for company.
Coming into the finish, the two-man team set-up makes things more interesting, as it does in many aspects of a race like this. There’s no point one man from a team finishing first, if his team-mate isn’t with him. Having been slightly baulked on a particularly rocky, steep section of the final climb, Jeff dropped back slightly; luckily I was able to help him back on. From there we had to see how we could cross the line ahead of the others. After sitting in and recovering for a bit, we watched as one of the Kenyans disappeared off over the horizon, while his team-mate stayed with us. Odd; if he had more than a two-minute gap over his team-mate at the finish, there would be a penalty. Anyway, ours not to reason why. As the final rollers passed under the wheels, the yellow jerseys dropped back slightly; Yannick Lincoln feeling the pace of the last couple of days, or just content to finish with a big cushion in hand from yesterday? Anyway, that left us with one Kenyan up the road and one with us. On another roller, Jeff put in a gap to the two of us. After a short pause in which the remaining Kenyan pulled through to try to close the gap, I attacked, rejoined Jeff, and we were gone.
No idea what these guys were doing – but they were definitely having fun
Unfortunately, while we were able to establish a good gap, the day wasn’t to end as planned – we missed the last turn coming into the finish area, crossed the line from the wrong side and had to retrace our steps, by which time the yellow jerseys and the Kenyans had leapfrogged us.
Bad luck? You make your own luck; the course markings could perhaps have been more obvious, but we should have been paying better attention; that’s harder to do though when the red mist is down and you’re maxing out on lactate as you approach the last km.
Smiles at the finish in Bois Cheri
This is a young race, and not without its teething problems. Along with the slight confusion over one or two route markings, there were a couple of gates which were meant to be opened but weren’t; luckily the lead quad bikes were fully equipped with mallets, cold chisels and bolt cutters, and the problem was resolved pronto.
They are exactly the sort of thing that the race will learn from and get sorted as it grows. And it’s certainly not for lack of effort on the part of the hard-working organisers – no one could fault the enthusiasm of the commissaires, the team from Omnicane, the stage finish hosts, or all the volunteers who have turned out to make this race work.
It’s seeking to emulate the big races like the ABSA Cape Epic or the Craft Bike Transalp, where it’s very unusual for there to be a wrong turning, certainly at the front of the race. However, that’s not easy to achieve – lead motorbikes, helicopters with cameras, detailed route books, endless arrow markers, all come at a cost.
I’m confident that it will get there; it’s always easy as a rider to forget just how much effort goes into organising even a single day race, let alone a stage race across land owned by multiple different people and companies, including point-to-point days across inhospitable terrain. In this context, anyone should be praised for even taking on the challenge.
And in the end, we’re still racing our bikes through some amazing landscapes here in Mauritius. Racing mountain bikes anywhere, especially when you’re feeling good and up at the sharp end of the race, has got to be one of the best feelings around – it feels like even more of a privilege to be doing it somewhere so easy on the eye and with such friendly locals as well.
One more day to go – to the sea!