Ok so this is my take on Mountain Mayhem 2016. Straight off, this is just my opinion and I hope it balances out some of the sentiments expressed so far. I hope it might shed a bit more light on the whole experience, especially to anyone who’s thinking of entering next year. This is a lengthy review so if you want to see some pictures just skip to the end.
Overall I feel pretty disappointed and a bit underwhelmed by the experience. If you're into camping and being part of a rag-tag or professional team then I completely understand why people love the event: the comradery, the japes mixed in with the odd lap or two on your favourite bike/s. What's not to love about that?
If you're more inclined to go it alone (like me) then it's a little different. It's a personal experience (no shit) and one you need, especially as a first-timer, some sense of expectation and basic information to make you feel a little more comfortable about what's to come, even if it's going to be a tough experience. Now I'm not an idiot (contrary to opinion). I know this is a race, I know it's physically demanding and I know preparation is the name of the game and it's that latter part that is my first niggle.
I've run major marathon events through to local half marathons and so on. I've cycled many charity events including the big ones like L2B. All had a good (and sometimes great) amount of information available about logistics, the course, the timings, do's and don'ts, long in advance of the event and pushed to me via mail, email or other channels. For Mountain Mayhem, it was piece-meal, not relevant or just not forthcoming. Did anyone get the brochure sent to them directly with all the details? Nope. For me, that's poor organisation especially as we were spammed via email in the run-up with all the sponsors’ information. This is fine if you've been before, but for first timers it's not.
With that out the way, the actual organisation of the site and marshalling was first class. The two-stage journey from the east, arriving about 09:30 on Saturday worked a treat. We had a great spot just off the knob loop which meant pit-stops were easy (more on that later), we were fairly close to the showers (with hot water - completely unexpected and much appreciated) and loo's (cleaned up daily thankfully). The event arena was decent and had the necessary food and drink stops, nothing fancy but it did the job. But again, there were some little things that could have been improved: a wider selection of food and drink, the caterers miscalculating how many eggs’ they'd need (they ran out early Saturday morning), general signage around the site including a much clearer banner for the information tent (easily missed by many as it turned out). Oh and what happened to the riders briefing at 11:45?
Taking a step back a moment, for me the most important thing about cycling is enjoyment. I absolutely **** love it, even the daily grind of the commute. It helps clear my head, gets my endorphins jiggling and my legs twitching. Add in having the opportunity to ride my favourite bikes around a challenging, technical course and hopefully show-up (and off) a few modern ‘all the gear and no idea’ riders, then my expectations were high to experience something special.
My grievances all boil down to the conditions of the course, predominately due to the appalling weather, the excuse that’s called summer 2016. I know what you’re thinking: stop moaning, you’re meant to like mud, you’re a mountain biker. To that, I say, enjoyment. If you think cycling for nigh-on 24 hours across a sodden, mud-slop-goo-fest course is fun then I take my hat off to you: you’re mental. Seriously, there is nothing fun when:
• You have to walk large parts of the two longest climbs because the rain has swept the earth away exposing the bed-rock which is like cycling on ice.
• Or when you’ve actually been able to get some momentum and are making progress up said climb only to have to dismount because all the modern bike riders are walking because a) there’re not fit enough, b) the bike’s gearing is shit, c) the bike is too heavy or d) all of the above.
• One decent is so cut-up it’s a death trap and you have to walk down or in one case traverse down the side through a pile of nettles. To be fair, this was my decision and in hindsight wasn’t the smartest, but there was no way, even if I’d made it to the bottom I’d have been able to stop without hitting the bales because the shingle was acting like marbles. In my opinion this was the only part of the course where riding a modern bike would have helped.
I can hear myself saying ‘stop acting like a bitch’ to which I retort, this is meant to be fun. If there’s no fun then there’s no point. You don’t go around hitting your head against a brick wall for fun (apologies to those that do – seek some help please).
With a marathon or a dry course in this case, it doesn’t matter how much I’ll hurt competing in it or completing it, there’s a goal in mind and even though I might not say it at the time, it’s an enjoyable experience. It just didn’t click here which is a shame.
I completed 2 laps in succession and like many had a few interesting offs! The first lap was a complete write-off: too congested, too wet, bikes and people all over the place. I got the bomb-hole completely wrong the second time and ended up in the funny little alcove to the right: proper funny. The un-ride able downhill I really tried to nail the second time and made good progress until the second half when all traction just disappeared, even at speed, so to save the bike a hasty dismount turned into a full-scale roll down into the nettles: proper stingy!
I took a break at the camp pit-stop and started to seriously think about my approach. I wanted to nail a few laps without any issues which in turn I hoped would increase the enjoyment levels. As indicated, I was competitive on the climbs when I could get going and when there weren’t too many walkers in front of me. There are plenty of climbs on the course, which I liked, especially those out of the woods in the warmer and clearer air. It was really satisfying passing most of the folks who had flown past me on the way down and for them not to catch up with me again.
Lap 3 was clean from a technical perspective – walking aside – but now the course was turning from just wet and splattery mud, to damp (better) and sticky (worse). I remember one particular section where after another walked climb, I quickly got back on, started peddling and it felt like I was cycling through syrup. I swore something incomprehensible along the lines of “what the f**k am I doing here?”
It was not long after this that I decided that’s enough, do one more lap and make it count. So a final pit-stop for a breather at the camp and an explanation of what I was going to do with my support manager (aka my wife) and off I went for lap 4. It was technically clean and by this point, one of the climbs that had been just about ride able had become a gloop fest, justifying in my mind at least that this was enough. Riders were scattered all over the course so there were long sections where I was on my own and at last, it actually felt good. The pros were motoring along on the flat and I’d slowly catch them up on the climbs; there was plenty of room and they were all very clear with their instructions and encouragement. Full respect to them.
The final climb was the best one of the lot: proper head down and grind and I think the shot of me from Daisydog (see below) is that one. I remember passing the finish line happy in the knowledge this was the end of a pointless exercise. I had a great evening, soaking in the sunset with a few ciders. I even slept well in the back of the camper van. I did wake around 05:00 ready to get going again, but quickly reasoned with myself, why would anything have changed since 22:00 the night before? Anyone who was on the course in the morning will be able to describe what it was like, but when I saw the damp grass sections, I suspect it was still pretty sloppy in the woods.
We got up about 07:30, got clean, packed up had breakfast and departed. There was no point hanging around and I certainly didn’t feel comfortable picking up a medal: that would be verging on fraudulent! It was interesting and somehow reassuring to note there were a lot of other timer tags in the box when I dropped it off. At least I wasn’t the only person questioning their sanity.
So, again, I know we can’t vouch for the weather and frankly I should know better. But let’s face it, unless you’re a sucker for punishment, if we were planning to ride on our favourite trials at home and they were in a shitty state, most of us would stay home or get on the road bike. We’d save it for a better day.
I think the course is really good and if there was a way we could guarantee a good, fairly dry conditions, I’d go back in a heart-beat. But we can’t and therefore I won’t be back and that’s fine with me and (I suspect) Mountain Mayhem.
To summarise, if you’re thinking about going next year or in future years, you might want to consider the following:
• Team or solo. If you’re into camping and the japes, go team. If you’re mentally insane (some may same tough) go solo.
• Be ready to ride in really crap conditions and have a set-up that works. I was super-grateful I had my classic Smoke and Dart tyres. If I had used FirexPro’s I’d have barely made it around the first corner.
• Bring more than one bike (if you go solo). In theory my idea would have worked well: hard-tail for daytime, full-suss for night when you need more give on bumps you just can’t see anymore.
• Don’t worry so much about riding retro. Yes, the big boys will go quicker on the flat and downhill but they are screwed on the up – of which there’s a lot – unless they are ironmen or women, and there are a few of those. The course, in the dry, really does suit a light-weight, less wide bike with a good selection of gear ratios.
• Have a really good support person/s with you. Unless you’re a proper full-on hermit or Ray Mears, you’ll need someone to mop your brow, get your drinks ready, listen to you as you bitch and moan – as well as laugh along with the funny moments you experienced, and trust me, there are plenty of those: falls, spills, nice comments about your bike, when you hear the Vengaboys playing in the woods, the marshals having a cheeky toke or two (then the next lap there’re zoned out maaaan), face-palming at a clown (bike and person – you know who you are) and so on.
• Be fit. Seriously, if you’re not I can only imagine how painful an experience it must be. It’s a race after all and there are folks flying all over the place so it’s not even about keeping up with them, it’s about having the skills and agility to get out the way and maintain your rhythm. The number of riders who really struggled with this was high and honestly, it took me a good lap to get into the groove.
It was great to see a few familiar faces from afar and a few up close: big respect to Regan. I’m really chuffed you got the prop’s you deserved from the organisers and Singletrack magazine. And to the chap I chatted to at the start whose name I’ve forgotten: we exchanged placed a few times on that first lap, massive respect for rider the Trekker. I did see that “interesting” THM Specialized machine and I hope the chap riding it was ok as he was blowing a bit. Also big thanks to those at RB HQ – the anal Intruder – who recognised the bike first, then me. Nice to know the bike gets centre stage, as it should! And to the folks shouting ‘steel is real’ around the course. Indeed it is, indeed it is.
Onto the pictures:
At lovely Leigh Delamare for the overnight Alan Patridge sleep over:
The only time I got to ride the Manomano:
I love the smell of deep-heat in the morning:
!!!SUPER KAWAII!!!
Pretty sure this is lap 1, coming up to base camp:
Two laps in and she's performed flawlessly unlike the rider:
Finishing lap 3, who's this show-off?
Ah, whatever!
Conquering the final climb - mid-Voeckler face in full affect:
https://daisydogphotos.smugmug.com/24-h ... -QfQbNGw/A
Final lap, not long now - proper hot now:
Token big sky shot
