The anticipation had been building for the ‘Ard Rock Enduro for some time, mainly due to the lack of preparation I’d put in for it. As it turns out, working all hours on renovating your first house and training don’t go hand in hand, so I felt a shade of anxiety at what I knew from last year to be a bit of a toughie. I’d filled my head with nonsense like ‘I’ll just treat it as a training weekend’ and ‘I just care about being out on my bike’, which aren’t total fabrications, but as we all know, the best of intentions will never shield us from the red-mist of competition.
My friend Lee and I travelled up to the idyllic Yorkshire Dales on Saturday morning, aiming to get pitched up and out on the practice loop around lunchtime, but first I had the issue of a wobbly wheel to sort. As is standard with last-minute kit packing, I noticed some baggy spokes in my rear wheel, with a matching dent in the rim. No problem, there will be tech guys at the event, I’ll pop it to them in the morning, I can throw my 26″ wheels on for practice, and everything will be excellent. In an ideal world of course.
Lee pitched up as I went in search of some help for my sorry looking wheel, and after a fair amount of air was sucked in through the teeth of those I presented the problem with, came to the conclusion that the rim was toast. I was satisfied in the experts opinions, so I resorted to the spare set of wheels that usually live on my hardtail, and spent a while (Lee will tell you hours) faffing around swapping parts. I decided to go ‘old school’ and run things called ‘inner tubes’ at what would probably be considered as ‘mental’ tyre pressures, but I didn’t want to risk a puncture any more than I had to. I decided reliability would trump grip on this occasion, and didn’t want to repeat last year’s ‘I think I might be Aaron Gwin’ run down stage 5. We eventually headed out on the practice loop, and despite the heat and that first climb, we agreed that there was no better thing to be doing.
Due to the the success of the two previous edition of ‘Ard Rock, there were even more formats for competitors to get a chance of entering, and to ride this terrain, a lot of which is normally private. To allow the two Saturday race events to run, practice for the 5 stage Sunday Enduro was limited to a 17 mile loop, taking in stages 1 and 4. This worked really well, as last year some of us did the full race loop two days on the trot, which is quite honestly, bloody daft. The loop consisted of two main climbs, and whichever way you look at it, was a fantastic afternoon riding in some of the most beautiful scenery available. I can’t say that I paid too much attention to the stages, after all, we’d be riding the other 3 blind anyway, so it was more about getting a feel for what we were up against, rather than learning positions of rocks. In all, we were out for just under 3 hours and were ready for the catering wagon and the bar!
The atmosphere of the pits is a good chunk of what makes ‘Ard Rock such a great event, and goes some way to explain why it sells out so fast. Along with the trade stands of the main sponsors, you’ve a few food stands and BBQ, a bar serving proper ale, a live band playing most of the evening, and of course, a mechanical bull, dressed as a sheep. It’s safe to say that my riding style on that carried over from the bike: too much effort, and not enough style. The Mega Ride On chaps were out in force and On The Beers, and had taken the tactical decision to head to the pub instead of the practice loop, so fresh legs would have to carry less-than-fresh heads come our 8.25am start time.
Part of me wishes I’d joined them, because as bedtime arrived, so did All Of The Wind. I had a terrible night’s sleep and was just waiting for the time to tick up to 7am when I’d planned on getting up. I spent most of the night being hit in the face by the walls of my tent, and was dreading what I assumed was going to be flash flood conditions for race day. Imagine my surprise then, when at 3.30am I got out to try and pin my ropes down better, it was actually dry, bright, and sunny. How odd.
Anyway, after a good slab of porridge, we dragged ourselves to the start, and readied for the off. Excuses were flowing thick and fast up the first climb, but the banter was welcome, taking our minds off the muggy air and endless incline. The marshals greeted us warmly at every point, and everyone around just looked chuffed to be outside, this is my kind of place.
Right then! Enough of this bimbling about, let’s go racing! We arrived at the top of stage 1, and it was time to see if the legs had any oomph in them. We opted to roll straight in rather than stop for a chinwag, and Lee set off first. The start of the stage was so much fun, you had to remember you were racing instead of larking about. The grassy rolling jumps along the start straight were fast, before you hit an acute left through a gate and back on the pedals towards some brilliant rollercoaster chutes and gulleys. It was very loose up here, and any slight venture off line would see you scrabbling around for grip, best just to point it straight and hang on! I was riding tentatively, as I tend to need a bit of riding hours under me before I feel comfortable enough to really chuck myself at it, but that all comes with experience. Out of the scree, the stage heads into the woods, different to last year and adding a fair bit of length to the stage, and a whole new dynamic to the race. Now instead of bright, rocky and lose, you’re met with dark, rooty and loam, that really rewarded those who could pin it. I got through it cleanly enough, albeit slowly. I was still getting used to my new pedal/shoe combination, forcing me out of the habit of moto-drifting everywhere, but when I did blow off the pedal, I still hadn’t quite got the knack of getting back in.
Stage 2 started out on an exposed plain, and was a point and shoot down to some narrow singletrack gulleys. There really was only one line through most of it, as big tyre-killing rocks lined the route. In the second set of singletrack, after another flat-out piece of moorland, I came unstuck. My right pedal caught something and at full tilt, I was sent out the front door and off the track, tangling myself in the course tape for good measure. Once I’d finally released myself from what felt like Jumanji vines, I was back on my way, and finished the stage without any further dramas. Wondering whether I could blame anything other than myself for my off, I attempted to go with the smaller-than-normal wheels lowering the bottom bracket, and thus the cause of my pedal-strike, but even to me that sounded a bit weak.
Stage 3 was a long one, and began with a flat, grassy energy sapper before chucking you into some high speed sections that would punish your tyres if you weren’t paying attention; it wasn’t uncommon to pass the odd rider repairing punctures towards the bottom. I did miss a gate here, and lost a bit of time going back to go through, in the spirit of good sportsmanship. I’m sure plenty of people would have gone straight on here, but looking up the trail and holding a sensible speed would have done me far more favours than cutting a corner.
By now, the legs were really starting to feel it, and although the climb to stage 3 was the tallest of the day, grinding up to stage 4 seemed to take forever. Lee revived his spirits with some peanut butter cups and we got back on the bikes, both of us beginning to complain about various sore areas.
Stage 4 began in a similar fashion to the others, flat-out exposed moorland and into rocky singletrack, with plenty of off-camber to deal with a some tricky high speed compressions that could make a real mess of you if you weren’t committed. Towards the end it steepened up as it dropped into the valley, and tight switchbacks completed a varied stage. I managed to get down reasonably well I thought, but I just didn’t have it in me to really push. My lack of training really starting to become apparent. No matter how fit I feel, generally I can carry on all day, but that dose of power just didn’t seem to be there.
The transition to stage 5 was the longest of the day, and it was here that I fell apart last year. I was feeling alright, and we had regrouped with the MRO chaps and traded war-stories as we made our way out of the valley. The banter was running dry, as mechanical issues and fatigue was starting to get the better of people. The desire to take the piss out of ‘your tubeless setup’ wasn’t there, as we were well-informed that karma is a bitch.
We made it to stage 5 and readied ourselves for one last blast down the hill. A fast stage, crossing over lots of walls with a few jumps thrown in for good measure, it seemed to be everyone’s favourite track. The riding was certainly excellent, but I’m not sure if it was more down to the proximity of a cuppa! This was my best stage, and the only one that I managed to put any time into Lee, which I was quite pleased about, until he mentioned that he’d had a shocker…
Back down in the pits, everyone was buzzing from the day’s riding. Whether you had excuses or not, the general consensus was that the event ran smoothly, the tracks were excellent, the entertainment was top notch and that a return next year was definitely on the cards. You can take it as seriously as you like, and any way you look at it, you get to ride on some seriously testing terrain with your mates; I can’t think of anything better!
For what it’s worth, I finished 99th out of 169 starters, which is a slightly better result than the previous year’s effort. Lee brought it home in 61st, which is where I want to be aiming at. I know that with better preparation and more faith in my own ability and equipment, I ought to be able to climb up a fair amount of places, but until then, I’ve got a house to decorate…
Big thanks to the ‘Ard Rock crew for putting on such a great event, see you next year!
The Brunse 
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