The following fine report is from Gaz, and keeping it all in the family the excellent pictures are courtesy of Mrs Gaz. I can only add that it was a privilege to ride with you guys, particularly as we collectively laughed at the wind on the run in, keeping the pace high and the team together. We beat our best accepted official time on the course (2009’s 2:28:31) by more than nine minutes and our informal 2008 time of 2:27:15 by more than eight. Better still, we even beat our misbegotten official time of 2:19:35 from 2008.
A stunning day greeted us all for the Pinjarra stage of this year’s Sportif calendar. As with every morning since the start of Le Tour, the alarm went off way too early, but after a big bowl of muesli and yoghurt it was time to hit the road. First a quick stop to get Paddles and then the time flew by as we motored down the Kwinana freeway, with Ton (Mrs Gaz) and Paddles reminiscing about their respective times in Kalgoorlie. Talk about five degrees of separation!
The first important stop in Pinjarra was the bakery. We turned into its car park full of utes with ‘roo bars, spotlights and gun-toting locals with nary a front tooth in sight. Not really a place to be for those with lycra on their mind so we hot-footed it inside. Yum! Lots of luscious looking cream delights, pastries and pies, but Ton gently reminded me that an apple turnover probably wouldn’t last the distance up the first hill, so I took her advice and only just threatened to give it a hiding.
At the racecourse car park the usual round of pre-race Coglioni phone calls began, like “have you seen so-and-so, I need a jersey” and “where the hell are you guys parked? Where? I can’t see you! Oh, there – that’s you guys 10 metres in front of me?” True to form Stuey rolled in with minutes to spare and promptly decamped to the bog leaving both teams nervous as Bif had stowed his bag in his car not knowing if he still needed access to its contents. Finally all the troops were rounded up and both teams were ready to roll.
The start/finish line posed a small safety issue of a slight rise in the bitumen but seriously, who was that going to bother? No one, or so most of us thought. The talk in Uno was to go out gradually and not cook ourselves before the climbs up to Dwellingup, but a decent tailwind enabled us to set an average of 38.6km/h after 12km. We then hit the climbs and by the 25km mark we had slowed to an average of 28km/h. Sadly, we had also lost Babel who wasn’t feeling too well. He soldiered up to the near the crest but unfortunately had to pull the pin in the interests of health. Bif had been whining about an impending illness before the start so no doubt he had resorted to some black magic from O’Dirty’s bag of tricks to transfer the ailment to his hapless teammate.
Everybody took turns on the front up the hills into Dwellingup and a solid team effort was well underway. The two grasshoppers, The Doctor and Boab, were climbing like Contador and Schleck while Bif didn’t bother either breaking a sweat or getting off the big chain ring. As the heftier team member I did my bit by blocking out the wind while Spunker did his best Mathew Flinders impersonation, circumnavigating the group to regularly monitor our progress. The blue Due boys came into sight every now and then before disappearing round a corner or over a crest, so it was great to have something to chase. But the catch would have to wait.
As we approached Dwellingup we saw some road-side random taking photos of us. (For the purposes of this report, I will refer to her as the Hot Chick.) At this point only I knew who it was (my wife, Ton) but it didn’t stop the rest of the guys smiling and waving! When she yelled out “go, Coglioni!” I think half the blokes thought wow, we have a cheer squad! Someone muttered, “Who was that random??”
The section from Dwellingup to the turnaround point saw us zooming down some decent descents and cranking it up the climbs. Overall, the pace remained quick and everyone was feeling comfy, although the road surface in one particular section did its best to throw us out of our saddles. Some of us may have thought we were in the Paris-Roubaix. In hindsight, I’m surprised that Boab’s dentures didn’t take flight! We caught the Due lads at the top of a climb and nearly took on a refugee when Jack from the blue shirts asked if he could hook on. Being a first timer and unaware of the rules, we had to politely decline his request and send him back to the pack.
The turnaround point gave us all an opportunity to take on some water and gel shots. The Doctor had been crowing at the start about a tip he’d picked up from O’Dirty whereby gel shots are stashed under the leg grippers of one’s shorts. It did look like he meant business, but one too many flexes of those famous thighs had weakened the packaging so much that when he went to retrieve a shot the contents exploded down his leg. This left a sticky white residue that was the subject of many amusing comments too ribald to repeat on a family-oriented website such as this. Bif obviously thought this was a good look and proceeded to pour half his gel down his leg, but did not manage to achieve the same “I really get off on cycling” effect. Meanwhile Spunker had learned from past experience and was careful not to allow his chocolate flavoured gel to run down the back of his knicks, avoiding the impression that he had, how do you say, shit himself. Not good to draft behind.
Up and down we merrily went, and then it was time to attack the longish climb back into Dwellingup. We each did our bit on the front and our reward was a zippy descent into town. But, aaagghh! We were brought to an abrupt halt at the T-intersection by a long line of cars that were given right of way by the lollipop man. Once we re-started we went past the Hot Chick again who took more photos of us. I tried to suck my guts in but that effort almost made me black out, so I let it all hang out as we zoomed past the Nikon lens. After the long drag out of town, we finally got our ultimate reward with the juicy downhill to the flat. On the descent, Spunker and I decided it would be best if the biggest windbreakers sat on the front to protect the grasshoppers such as Bif, Boab and The Doctor. I managed not to break wind in the smelly sense, but kept the drag down for the guys behind me.
As we hit the flat Spunker did a quick welfare check and we were all feeling okay. The Doctor was not enjoying the flat bits so much as the hilly bits so he sat off the back for a while Spunker called for the rest of us to spend “a little longer” on the front. Boab took this to heart and did his best Chris Anker Sørensen impersonation and promptly shelled himself out the back for a couple of turns to stay strong for the final assault on the finish line (which Boab took literally). Despite all this we managed to stay on around 38km/h into the bugger of a cross/head wind. Hot Chick made another appearance and seemed to be taking photos from behind, and I reckon The Doctor was thinking how glad he was that he shaved that morning.
We hammered into town and the finish line was quickly upon us. Boab was wearing the timer ankle bracelet and he made a very strong lunge at the inflatable archway, however his efforts resulted in the same outcome as Lance Armstrong and Cadel Evans in Le Tour – a squeal of brakes then straight onto the tarmac. The rest of us were very concerned and voiced our worries thus: “get up buddy!” and “get over the line, mate!!” I even thought I heard someone do a version of Nelson Muntz from The Simpsons: “Ha ha!”
Apart from a little bit of stripped bark, Boab was fine and he did a sterling job to run over the finish line with his bike in tow. Only later did we find out that the official clock stopped about 30 metres before the inflatable archway. Hot Chick was there again and she captured Boab’s moment of glory. When we flicked the photos later on, we saw that his crash-bang efforts were not in vain – the officials responded by putting the perfunctory witches hats over the slight rise in the bitumen that helped cause his spill. Who would have thought?
All in all, a great team effort. The Crownies in the car park, courtesy of Blinder, went down a treat – they didn’t even touch the sides. The food was great and the set-up was awesome. Well done to Spunker for a great effort as team captain and hats off to Bif for making it look like a stroll in the park, even though he’s been off the bike for two weeks. Boab was strong as an ox and the The Doctor had a superb ride. Even I felt strong at the end, although my strongest motivation was to get back to the bakery and teach that apple turnover a lesson!
Allez, Uno!!
Recent Comments