Firemonkeyphoto

 

A quick trip to the Frank Nichols garden store netted us a massive bag of coal and all kinds of flammable materials to ward off the cold temperatures at night. Bertie happily spent the day tearing apart pallets and feeding up a fire to keep us warm as darkness set in. Dave and James tag-teamed the first hours of darkness as I huddled in my sleeping bag to rest for the midnight shift. Their laptimes increased by twenty minutes for the last lap before turning in, a symptom of waiting in wet gear and fatigue.

Simon and I wake to the knowledge that Dave and James are out for the rest of the event. Simon responds with a preposterous 54 minute lap, only 32 seconds off our team fastest lap. I’m feeling strong deja-vu and keep a steady pace, keeping plenty in reserve for a long, long morning. The conditions are good, possibly the best they’ll be all event. The singletrack is melted slush and has a definite ridable line and the fire-roads are freezing crispy, reducing drag. We tag-team for three laps, our times hovering around the hour mark. Between laps we sit in a camp chair by the fire, wet riding gear sealed under layers of insulation. Our legs are kept warm by a sleeping bag made of layers of honeycombed foil. We must look like pop-tarts for cannibals. Each time I sit down, I’m looking forward to my next lap, because then I’ll be warm and I’ll be riding. It occurs to me that the brighter the joystick light on my head runs, the more awake I feel. It is obvious we have battery power to burn, so I speed up, riding the entire lap on full beam. The riding is good with the rain-freeze-thaw-freeze conditions changing the circuit significantly between laps. The granite chute near the top eventually freezes and I’m dumped into the mud at the bottom. Meanwhile some of the steeper climbs are icing up from wheelspin and a small tree has blown across a faster section of fire-road. Three of us work to clear the obstruction. The course is becoming familiar now, each part with a habitual line. The stink of a bog means you’re most of the way round. A fast corner after a long descent near the end means its time to scrub off all the speed and roll unclipped around the iciest corner of the course. The iciest corners lead immediately into a deep quagmire of mud. The change is so abrupt it is almost offensive. Ambulancemen and marshalls provide cowbell and tunes, cheering riders as they climb or spin out on ascents. I inadvertantly scare the lap-recording ladies as I drag my burned out back brake to the handle with no discernable effect and accelerate downhill towards them. Fortunately the snow means that my front brake remains largely unused and I stop in plenty of time. A north American accent demands “How are you doing?” and a mobile phone is thrust in my direction. I answer honestly “I’m really just beginning to enjoy myself” and sprint up the hill. Minutes later I’m sitting by a warm fire gazing at the stars.

Simon goes to bed after his fifth lap, seduced by warm dry clothes. As I head out on my fifth, I’m taking it plenty easy. Spinning up fire-road climbs and relying on my forks to take most of the hits. At this point I’m sick of the orange juice I’ve mixed into my recovery drink as my mouth burns with the acidic taste. Bertie informs me that they switched to apple juice hours ago. I can’t tell the difference. For the first time ever at a ‘puffer I’m not cramping and the vinegar sachets in my camelbak remain unused. I manage a sixth lap in the dark, marvelling that the Enduro front light is still going strong after being used since midnight. The piggy-back battery providing the extra charge needed. The half-light is’nt quite as spectacular as previous years and intermittent rain sparks in the light of my headtorch. I arrive back at the campsite with the full intention of going out soon on another lap. Just after some coffee, just after Fraser changes my brake pads, just after I close my eyes for a second. Eventually I realise I’m putting it off and only getting colder. I change the pedals on Fraser’s Scandal and take it for the final lap. I suggest handing the dibber back to the marshalls after the lap, by now I would need to put in a 1:10 lap to allow another lap within the 25 hours. We agree that if someone is up for it, they’ll be waiting for me at the start finish line. Its daylight and I’m confident I can put in one more fastish lap. The course is full of exhausted riders pushing and staggering the final laps. The course is freezing again in new places and some bits of fire-road are slippy. A teenager races me down one fire-road section and I get gee’d up enough to change into middle ring. The gear change requires both hands to push the lever. In time I find my rythm and make solid time on the fire-roads and take it easy over the granite. The descents are completely visible and the rideable line painfully obvious in the light. I’ve got enough left in the tank to make the icy corners and start pedalling through the quagmire towards the finishline. I arrive with fifteen minutes to go before the cut-off and the event staff give me a free coffee. I spill most of it on myself and my hands but the warmth is welcome, the last lap was definitely the coldest as the water on the inside of my gear was chilling my extremities. I meet a flickr buddy “The Flying Pie” whose team beats us by a single place. I have my photo taken. Bertie arrives to take my bike up the hill and we hand in the dibber. We’re done racing for another year.

Four loons, two wheels, single malt

1:21:54 James

1:04:51 Dave

0:53:58 Simon

0:53:41 Neil

1:13:23 James

1:05:45 Dave

0:56:56 Simon

0:56:55 Neil

1:17:18 James

1:12:00 Dave

1:37:05 James

1:30:37 Dave

0:54:14 Simon

1:04:53 Neil

1:00:20 Simon

1:01:32 Neil

1:06:44 Simon

1:13:54 Neil

1:13:26 Neil

2:06:09 Neil (coffee break)

Seb coped well with a group of mixed ability and did’nt have to say much negative in a critique to make you see what you were fouling and how you could fix it. Several of the people at the workshop had’nt touched manual exposure mode and had’nt used a histogram in anger before and left the workshop with a brace of confidence enhancing manually exposed images in difficult circumstances. I would consider myself happy with those elements, but Seb pulled me up on an over-reliance of autofocus and thus the dull composition and loss of sharpness generated by using AF on a fast moving subject. I’d rate my Canons AF as awesome, but when pushing the limits the cracks begin to appear. In a motor driven burst, it will find focus for some shots, but sometimes that meant I was making do with a shot where it locked in, but the rider was’nt quite where I wanted them. It also gave me a better peg of ‘where I am at’ and an idea of where the next level is. That’s the most precious of information to any photographer.

The workshop was taught with discussions of technique over tea and flipchart, shoots out in the Quantock hills and nightly reviews of that days haul. The shoots were all conducted on local singletrack at locations within riding distance. For that purpose I had rented an Iron Horse mkIII comp mountainbike, a capable steed that lacked the spark of a mountainbike I’d buy. The riding was good natural singletrack with steep loose climbs and entertaining, varied descents. There were sufficient root and roll kickers to pop into the air at will along with technical low speed root work. Being a photo workshop there was also an inordinate amount of time spent at water splashes. Tame “Rent-a-Whippet” Mike Davis (of Bike Magic fame) tested his foot waterproofing to its limits with endless ride-thrus. When he was’nt modelling he was guiding the riding using suspiciously climbing language. I’ve never ridden up a “steep pitch” before. Jeff (Jethro) also pitched in on one watersplash, demonstrating his ability to perform endless manuals on his prototype Sanderson singlespeed. I got a few shots on the Sanderson, a bike that continually whispered “Play with me!” in my ear.

The weather worsened over the weekend and almost stopped play on Sunday. We did make it out in truly horrid conditions and that is where this positive energy made the shoot. All of the factors were combining to make it miserable, people were carrying wounds, dog tired in ceaseless torrential rain. Despite this everyone was grinning and calling tough shoots in the low light. For some this was a first shoot with remote flash. We worked in pairs to prevent the onset of cold and were soon riding under trees and up rivers. Jeff was a kick ass subject and his bright red waterproof on a white bike was perfect for the saturated green of the forest.

Seb runs a good course and good folks go on it. Does the idea of a weekend of mountainbiking, photography and chatting over a beer appeal to you? More photos from me here. Seb’s blog here. Email him to get workshop info.