After having my car pulled out of a wee bogholl and spending saturday afternoon sponging water out of the passenger seat floor (don’t ask), I rocked up to the Currambene race track feeling confident, and perhaps a touch cocky over the once again expected defeat of one Dr Eggs. The grumpy old man had, as many grumpy old men do, an injury sustained at the otway only a week ago so this weeks battle was to be restricted between the young gun and undisbuted Egg vs Spoon champion (me) and well, the Egg . Don’t get me wrong here, I had good reason to believe that my path to being the pie hurler at the end of the series was going to be plain sailing. With a 3rd in the series for the solo men last year, the complete obbliteration of Dreggsy at the last round, not to mention a completely unblemished win loss record since the Otway last year and the numbers were stacked in my favour…

…boy was I in for a shock.

It’s not like he’s never beaten me, and even in the last year on the odd occasion, he’s even managed to get in front. There was even a time when getting infront was pretty tough, but often unnecessary when sitting back and watching Dr Eggs Crack was all that was needed to take the victory. It was still somewhat of a surprise to see the Ellsworth jersey in the middle of a pace line slide steathly past down the fire trail. Hang on, flat track, couple of hours in, I thought I was feeling pretty good and well, I’m behind dreggsy! To make it worse, a quick turn in to single track and a bit of traffic later, I could only watch as he pulled away, knowing that the next passing spot to clea the traffic was a little way away.

5 hours in, and after racing wheel to wheel with Michael Crummy virtually the whole race, I see a familiar sight, Dreggsy by the side of the track, though this time I wasn’t lapping him, I had just caught him back after he’d taken a quick call to nature. Ha I knew it! he’s history now, just need to keep this pace up with Mr Crummy and I’m home sweet! Little was I to know the stealthy, low down rotten move that was to come! Turns out I wasn’t able to keep Michael’s wheel, and backing the pace off a little my lap times started to creep towards 30mins. I was still confident, although starting to hurt a little, and despite having not put the same sort of k’s in through the summer this year, I had history on my side right!? ‘Sif dreggsy was going to beat me, he was tucked up behind me and probably thinking of his next excuse

For some reason, I had started to settle into a cruisier pace. There was only an hour and a half to go, and typically most of the 8hrs in the past have turned into a bit of a procession by now. Perhaps even complacency had settled in or just, I had resolved to accept whatever fate that came. In through the first section of single track, and not being as spritely as I’d been earlier in the race, struggling with a few mechanical issues I was just hoping would survive to get me home and then comes the double whammy…. Behind pulls up a rider, he was obviously not grossly faster, but not very talkative either answering with some odd and well, one word answers. Finally I hear a "yeah track if you can" and I look ahead, find a clear spot to slow down and pull over only to see the flash of that familiar ellsworth jersey go flying past! Gah he’s suckerd me in! and then I discover why my drive train was playing up. With a quick flick of my lever, I find myself all of a sudden in 32:11 and well, no shifting. Half way around the track with only 3 inappropriate gears and a snapped gear cable, I limp home to swap bikes and head out for my last two laps.

2mins! was the call from the El PreSSidente, now normally I’d know better than believe his splits, but he was looking kind of serious about it, so after a bit of faffing I pushed out to smash out the two fastest laps I could. On the rivit the whole time, I was digging as deep as I could just hoping to make up some time. Out of the saddle in the dog pretty much the whole way and really starting to hurt. I passed another Ellsworth rider, Harrisen Walden up the final climb to transition to the sounds of "Hi Craig, By Craig" but I couldn’t stop to chat, I was on a mission!

Through transition, grab a coke and out for my last lap. This time the call was 40secs, and he was slowing down! I don’t know what I was thinking, but I had to give it a shot and just opened up. As if to make life doubly interesting, I pick up another solo rider "Hey I think you’re on the same lap…" I didn’t have a clue, and definately had no idea what lap I was on, but in a blink of an eye, we were both hurtling down the fire trail for the last time, just pushing the limits of man and mind. Through the last bit of single track, the seas just seemed to part as the call to track if you can was made, but with only one painfull little pinch left, I was starting to fade. A rider I had just passed pulls up behind cheering me on, if only to beat the guy in front… little did he know, or I know that the real race had been run. And with dreggsy already lounging around transition, I was spat out of the final section of single track on to the fire road through transition for the last time… tired… broken… and for the first time in over a year, defeated!

I have to say, it must have been the best 8hr race I’ve been in for a long time. The competition was tight the whole day. To spend the first 5 1/2 hours wheel to wheel with a fellow solo rider was a blast, and with less than 10% seperating the top 10, it wasn’t going to take much of a mistake to see you sailing out of the leader board. But the race has been run and with the grudge match now leveled at 1 all, I leave you with this quote:

"It’s really good that French rode well, he normally rides crap!" - Ryan Bayley

Congratulations Dreggsy! good to see you have your legs back

Happy Trails!

Spoonie…