It was a barmy winters evening on a Saturday in mid May in Pitlochry when we arrived to witness the monsoon season in Pitlochry. The Caledonia Etape already looking like an ominous ride the next day. How prophetic!
Bigman, The Fit One, JR - fresh from his oilfields in the north,we headed for the administration centre. The team who organise the Etape each year are so efficient. Always well organised and happy to help. On the way we browsed the bike shop. It was doing a roaring trade in inner tubes - 3 for £15. How prophetic!
After meeting with Santiago who was being hosted in a tent in Faskally, we went to register for the event. Goody bags were handed out with the usual aray of gifts from a range of sponsors. This year we benefitted from Adidas body odours - one for him and one for her - Mrs Bigman's christmas pressie has never been sorted so early in the year.
Next it was off for some carb intake. The Bibo cafe menu on the high street looked perfect. Even better was the customer centric approach to service. When asked when they stopped serving evening meals, we were told 'when it gets quiet'. This is hugely different from a previous experience in Tongue when we missed lunch serving by 5.5 minutes - and we only wanted soup. We each had the choice of champions, an excellent bowl of Lentil soup rammed down by a plate of Chilli Pasta bake.
It may not be obvious, however, amongst our happy band is culture vulture. The Fit One wanted to be back at the B & B early to catch the voting and final songs on the Eurovision song contest. To keep myself focussed I browsed my pocket copy of The art of war by Sun Tzu. Tomorrow, the crown was in play for the final year before joining the masters in 2010. In the room that night as the Fit One slept, you could smell the anticipation.
We arranged for Santiago to join us for breakfast at the Windsor Gardens B&B. It has got to be the best B& B in the Highlands. The owners, David and Dorothy Stewart were absolutely delighted to welcome us into their home. The Fit One learnt the meaning of 'shooting a texan heart' as he shared stories of his own gamekeeping experience in the heart of Clackmannan. Dorothy also agreed to let us use the showers on our return. There was no indication which of our personal hygiene made her feel the need to offer us a shower. Maybe it was Santaiago in the tent. However he will never sleep in the that tent again as when he arose in the morning he neetly folded the poles, gathered the canvas, and promptly dumped it in the bin - disposable tents - you heard it first here!
We trundled down to a heaving high street ready for out start times. Bigman was away first at 7:00 with JR and The Fit One off 2 minutes later with Santiago due later with full intent of gatecashing the early start time.
The early rain shower was easing as the gun went off and the 2009 Etape set off like a cork from a botttle, full of expectation. Bigman felt good. Stocked up with porridge and muesli for breakfast and his pockets stuffed with energy gel and dried honey coated bananas.
We climbed to the Queen's view in no time at all with minor skirmishes. Only one chap from the RAF team flew off into a ditch, after failing to take a corner on a downhill stretch and bounced like a remnant from the 633 squadron. He picked himself up and was quickly back on his bike. The Etape throws a few sharp bends after downhills and constant concentration is required. By the time we got to Kinloch Rannonch the peleton in which Bigman was travelling was making good average speed of 20mph. He was on track for sub 4 hours as the second half is generally faster. Round Loch Rannoch and the waving and cheering crowds inspired continued high speeds. After 40 miles, Bigman was 4 minutes inside the 2 hour mark and looking good for a sub 4 hour. He felt good, he looked good.
And then things changed..............
A 'closed road' protester had sprayed carpet tacks all over the road. It was mayhem. The leading peleton had crumbled faster than a digestive bisciut dipped in a cup of tea. Inverted bikes everywhere as earlier riders sought to repair the damage of multiple burst tyres. The Bigman knew something was wrong when the Madone felt more like a Dawes! Dismounting he spotted 3 tacks in the front tyre and subsequently to realise he had two in the back. Just as well he brought 2 spare inner tubes. A prompt change over got him quickly back on his way but not before the Fit One had passed checking that he was okay. He subsequently confessed to wearing a smug grin under that concerned exterior. It was shortly to be extracted from his face, by four punctures along with his temporary crown thanks to his choice of foodstuffs.
Three hundred yards later, the Bigman was once again counting the cost of the protest with another tack in his back tyre. This required him to break into the puncture repair kit. At a prssure of 120psi road bikes are not noted for being brilliant with repaired inner tubes, however it did the job, for the meantime. A great Dunkirk spirit was building amongst the riders as each sought to make sure the other was sorted and on their way, sharing resource, but not the tubes - there were no more! Bigman shared his current tube changing space with a fellow from London called the Londoner. He commented on his love of the Scots direct vernacular. As one chap from the Glasgow area passed, he enquired as to whether our ailment was as a result of the Tack Attack. When Bigman responded in the affirmative- the rider from the west commented 'the B******s'. It needed no more to be said as he passed on his way.
Near the top of teh steepest part of the climb, the Bigman landed another puncture in the back tyre. The inner was now resembling a patchwork quilt however this quilt was not to hold its patch. A few miles along the road and the tube was leaking air to the point that it had to re-pumped every 300 yards. This was not good. The Bigman managed to finish the climb and get to the food station where the Mavic wheel team were able to make an improved repair. Surely now it would be clean run home. Nope. Three miles down the descent and another puncture. With floppy ears and a Duracell impression on his face he pleaded for a spare tube as the packs went by. One guy stopped and offered him his last tube conditional upon if he gets into trouble the Bigman would stop for him. Deal. Bigman did not catch his cycle number however it epitamised the spirit amongst the participants. The Bigman plodded home in 6 hours 34 minutes.
Every rider Bigman spoke with agrees the locals have been brilliant and have made the festival a joy to attend. They cannot be held responsible for a few uninformed types who put peoples lives in danger. The weather was fantastic. The scenery was fantastic. Bigman did not achieve his sub 4 hours, however it bacame unimportant. He was able to help fellow cyclists in need and made new friends. He will be back next year.
PS The Fit One has greed there was no race and the Bigman keeps his title!
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