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| Spencer, Ferg, Me, Chris and Henry #happydays |
There’s a corner of my heart that will always be reserved for Okeford Hill Bike Park; after all it was the first place I raced last year. Steep, technical and daunting it quickly became known as the ‘downduro’ round. Like all intense loves it scared and thrilled me in equal measure and I was excited to return to my proving ground for Round 3 of the series this year. My son Henry was coming for his first taste of Southern Enduro, along with my friend Spencer and a last-minute ticket from Jen Purcell (heal up quickly, Jen) meant that my buddy Ferg could come too. With plans to uplift on Saturday, camp, and race on Sunday it had the hallmarks of a top weekend but none of us knew quite how epic it would turn out to be.
In the midst of our glorious summer, we all met up at Okeford, early on Saturday morning and spotted another friend, Chris, pitching his tent. Sensing that the rough camping field would fill up quickly we bunged up the tent alongside Chris’ and went off to explore. I’m getting used to going to races with Spencer and wasn’t surprised when, within seconds, he’d disappeared onto the trails not to be seen again until lunch.
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| The camp site didn't stay this empty for long... |
Ferg and Chris were riding identical bikes and peeled off leaving Henry and me to find our feet. Whether it was because I was still transitioning from Mum-mode to Enduromum-mode I don’t know, but the morning was somewhat soul-destroying. Thanks to a head injury the week before (turns out I should wear a full face when slamming car doors!) I hadn’t looked at our bikes and failed to realise that Henry’s rear brake needed bleeding so I was trying to adapt to the steep stuff while also worrying about H and his bike.
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| Chris and Ferg's double trouble Santa Cruz Hightower LT's |
Thankfully food, a camping stove coffee and a brake bleed at lunch restored a sense of equilibrium and we headed out to ride in the afternoon with a positive attitude and desire to have fun. All four Stages were largely taped off and Ferg, Chris, Henry and I went straight to stage 4 (aka Tsubo). Last year I’d gone OTB and cartwheeled down the steep chute at the start of this Stage and I was wary of it. A witness to last year’s gymnastics my mate Katie was track walking Stage 4 and looked on as Henry and I rode down the chute and round the 180 degree switchback. My yell of ‘I’m so proud of you, Henry’ was met with ‘I’m so proud of you Vicky!’ from Katie and the transition to my happy place, Southern Enduroland, was complete. By the time we finished the run I nearly ruined any cred I had with Henry by bursting into tears of pride and joy at the uplift queue! I love MTB because of the way it teaches me to overcome my fears and find depths and resilience in my character - to see that happening in my teenage son was magical. A couple of runs later Ferg and Chris were waiting on the trail ahead of me and as I pulled up Henry shot passed all three of us rocketing along - we couldn’t believe he was the same rider.
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| The green team and Spencer ;-)! All the wheel sizes! |
That night we headed down to the pub in the local village - I was designated driver and drove the uplift car behind Ferg, Chris and Henry as they whooped, wheelied and weaved their way down the hill into the village. As we settled down in the sunny beer garden to laugh over the day’s riding with Katie, Will and Spencer, I realised there was no where else on earth I’d rather be.
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| Love riding with these ladies - Tara and Katie x |
Okeford is my kind of bike park - family run, informal, techy natural-feel trails as well as bigger jumps and drops and with a couple of battered landys on the uplift. It’s about riding and mates rather than brand and bravismo. The trails scare the bejesus out of me and yet I find them utterly addictive.
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| Moonlighting in the race office with Denise |
Lying in the tent, listening to the Southern Enduro Commune coming to life on Sunday morning, I had a breakthrough in my mindset. I realised that when I’m on the Okeford trails I love the challenges I face and that if I can see passed the fear that my brain is creating, the elation at riding such technical trails will be mine.
Philosophical moment over I emerged from the tent and headed over to help Denise on the sign-in desk. Once most people were signed in, I slipped off to practice with Tara and Holly. We went straight for the most challenging stages as there wasn’t much time left before the race started.
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| Southern Enduro Commune! |
The hill was heaving with spectators ready to watch gladiatorial riders pit themselves against the rocks, drops, roots and chutes. The overwhelming sense that racing was secondary to surviving amplified the usual Southern Enduro frisson. Come the race, Stage 1 was looser than I remembered and I managed to wash out in front of Henry’s Marshall station. An exasperated ‘come on, Mum, get up!’ put me in my place and I got my head back in the game.
Stage 2 was fast and flowing with a fresh bit of north shore to race along before you gathered all your speed and momentum to summit a huge mound. Cresting it, like the weight-less pause on a rollercoaster, you were immediately sent back down into the woods with rooty corners and chalky berms. The sensation of grip as you rode over off-camber roots was hard to come to terms with. In what felt like the blink of an eye we were half way through the race and it was time to face the truly steep stuff.
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| Transitions were scorching... Heading back up with the other Vicky. Photo credit; HSG Photography |
Stage 3 started with a run into a rock garden before you hit a sharp right-hand berm. Over the practice session the berm had become increasingly loose and resembling a giddy bucking bronco rider I only just made it round the corner to gasps and cheers from the crowd. I kept my eyes focused on the trail forcing myself to remember lines and features so that I was able to get over things that had stumped me in practice. The massive web of roots that you had to climb at the apex of one switchback still foxed me. Fear not, I simply abandoned shame and resorted to my original Okeford hike-a-bike tactic
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! The rest of the run went to plan and I arrived at the bottom exhilarated and emotional. Henry greeted me with a flapjack saying ‘you look shattered Mum, you need one of these’ as I passed on that final transition.
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| Even Marshall's need to find a race number if they want to ride in practice... |
Amazingly Stage 4 was my favourite; vertiginous chute and all. I picked my lines and let the bike roll as much as I could. However, it was also the stage where I made my most frustrating error. After toppling sideways off the trail, I noticed Alex a couple of turns above me on the hill. Through politeness or heat exhaustion I simply decided to wait and let her pass - madness. She was so fast that it wouldn’t have made any difference in the grand scheme of things but it was a lesson to me and my waning competitive spirit.
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| Ferg on Stage 2 - this line was super fun! |
As with last year the sense of pride and accomplishment that comes with racing at Okeford was overwhelming and left me exhausted, speechless but grinning from ear to ear. Spencer and Ferg were both top ten in their categories (despite Spencer crashing and breaking his thumb) and I found myself on the wooden boxes again. I was truly sad to pack the tent up and leave, wishing we could have kept on riding for just a little longer. Henry loved it so much that the final round at Milland in September will see him joining Spencer and me for his first race and I can’t wait! A massive thank you to Scott and the team who delivered another great day of racing but also to all my friends in the series who make it so special – I’d be lost without you.
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| Chris, Alex, Me, Katie and Holly post race. Photo credit HSG Photography |
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| We did it! We raced Okeford and we loved it! Tara and me |
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| Chris did it too - he raced Okeford and loved it! |
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| Me and H |
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| Katie, Alex and Me - but really everyone's a winner at Okeford! |