Nordic combined Part 2. 11/03/15. Final Report
Part 1. Vice. Gaz
And it came to be that the decision to ascend Turner’s lane for a second week in succession seemed about as popular as a ginger stepchild, as the herd headed North Westerly. Unbeknown to the group was the fact that the vast majority would be heading straight back down within the hour. The weather, akin to a grandmother at a Tom Jones concert, was mildly damp, although that was the least of the riders’ issues as they headed towards the start of the inaugural Nordic showdown. Feather, at the speed of the second coming of Christ, was last up. The visibility at the summit was crystal clear as a glaucomic mole with cataracts pointed us in the direction of the Sirhowy cattle grid. Down a trail that looked vaguely familiar in the fog that was as thick as Dafney trying to access his bike shed, and then into the heart of the woods to the starting point.
It was here that the route was announced and to nobody’s real surprise, the finishing line was planned as the Maenllwyd Inn. The interim checkpoint was to be the Hollybush where pint of beverage had to be consumed before the final spew-inducing climb up the valley.
And they were under starters orders and, like a Jew’s foreskin, off they went, but with the previous week’s jump and controversial ‘style marks’ informing the stagger.
Some memorable moments included:
Feather and Dode: 2 minutes in and still trying to get over the felled tree on the path 10 metres away. Feather overheard talking Dode through the findings of his and Toby’s research into the structural properties of cardboard boxes
Jock: Mr Cool, strangely unflustered at the prospect of hunting down the Feath and his eco warrior partner.
Clarkey: The first major victim of the fog. Close to doing ‘an Enzo’ with exactly the same mistake but a last moment reprieve was provided when he spotted several lights zipping past above him on the ridge.
Johnsy: Skinny bloke returns but completely unaware of his major inside out clothing misdemeanour
JP and Reg: Competitive siblings fighting for the lead. Jonny asks Reg to take his slipstream then turns Judas and blows him away along the ridge. The Fitman battle is back on!
Crock: Surely would get lost even at midday on a clear June day in his own back garden?
Griff: Surely the roadie was going to be quick enough to pursue the lads in front. Good late money backing the Vult. It would be unthinkable for him to let his backers down now?
Beaker: World champion competitive instincts kick in and, as usual, needed a pre-race shit. Interesting alternative choice of line off the start. The only rider heading down. What would be the result of this decision? Also a massive Judas moment in blaming the ethnic minority kid for cable tying vice captain’s chainring to frame.
Khalid: Implicit in cable tie crime but like compatriot Usain Bolt, sharp out of the blocks.
Part 2. Vice. Taff.
Hairybush Beer Critique
Technically Jock may have won the overall challenge and Gryff, unjustly perhaps, firmly last but beer drinking has its own winners and losers.
First man in; Style was elbow on the bar; relaxed, unhurried quaffing. Bladder battery replenished, ‘smoke me a kipper I’ll be back for Breakfast’ the Ace strolled out to save the world and get the girl. Top marks for the ex- captain, the model example for how it’s done.
Feather (Next in)
Roger (at the bar)- ‘Does that old man still ride with you lot? ‘
Taff – ‘Gordon? No, he’s retired, severe case of w*nkers arm’
Roger – ‘No, Feather ‘
At that exact moment cue creaking door (or possibly leg) – Entire bar ‘Feather!’
Gandalf the Grey proceeds to shine his Flame of Anor across the bar and after some thought knowingly declares ‘A pint of Butty Bach please!’ About half an hour later with an arm pumped like Geoff Capes the bar maid hands across his delicious pint of frothy treacle. Maximum style points!
The young Mercury of the club swoops in amongst the front runners looking like he’d just been for a light summers afternoon jog. Let’s about 3 people order in front of him and then asks for a pint of Guinness. Sure enough the barrel needs changing half way through pouring. With a ‘Good things come to those that wait’ look in his eye he remains completely unruffled, sips his pint down and heads off to overtake 90% of those that came and left in between. Maximum style points!
Notable losers : –
Lost all credibility by diluting beer with a variety of lady water. A dash of this and a slice of that is no way to treat a decent pint. Random lady at the bar- ‘Isn’t that cheating’. Indeed it is.
Becomes possessed by evil spirits every time he enters the Bush! Famously his last visit resulted in the decking of an elderly pensioner. Knee in her back he had to be pulled off and restrained whilst she was carried away screaming.
His reputation as an elderly mugger preceding the bar maid was on best behaviour serving him. To no avail! Allied with Crocks mathematical genius as key evidence he accused the poor wench of short changing him. Bar maid may have been young but she’s a 3rd year law student and upon cross examination Khalid was found guilty of bullshitting. So helping himself to the blind baby’s charity fund he did a swift runner. -50 style points.
Last in but determined not to be last. The red dragon competitive streak that powers this ex world champ was out in full display. Door knocked off the hinges, red faced, bar hushed as he dealt with his pint. +10 points for going for it - 10 style points for wanting it too much.
Part 3. Captain.
Awaiting at a packed out Maen, little did they know about the onslaught that was upon them. Like Rourke's Drift, I’m sure I could hear the Moolu's coming up the lane. One pint down and no sign yet. Second pint in flow, anticipation at its peak, who would be first man home??
Heard the gate latch, and its ex capt Rocko Jocko, BOOOM!!! Bit of a sweat on, looked like he saved the girl and shagged her on his way up. A few minutes later JP flies in (sloppy 2nds I think) with Jules not far behind (been pushing JP's arse). Bit of a lull until the bus turned up, all piling in, Gaz firing names at me as I struggle to write down the names and times.
All in and at the bar like wildebeest at the last pool of water in the dry season, good effort from all. Unlucky for Griff (or lucky) for coming up the rear, and Daff, for getting locked in some shed somewhere, both backed their drinks in true Moo style.
Great night Gaz and well done lads,
Capt, Vice & Vice!!!