Dartmoor Classic 2009

Four young men rode their steeds into a sea of carbon on Sunday the 28th of June. Arriving at HQ in reasonable time, it soon became apparent that it was everybody else’s reasonable time too. Our changing room was a busy roundabout, a short distance form the start. Whilst Flipper socialised with seemingly all our fellow riders, Julian, Stephen and Greg checked and re-checked all our pockets to make sure we had enough food.

And they’re off. A good pace was set by Stephen toward Manaton, a steady climb encountered as Colin caught up after a spectacular ‘off’ by his waterbottle. Then South to Ashburton and the climbing started. The field here started to thin, from being relatively busy with some peloton action in the first few miles.

Up, up, up. And not in my beautiful balloon! All in all to Princetown approximately 13 miles. Very little breeze to speak, no sun, but the mugginess ensured we’d have to sink a few pints later to replace lost fluids. A quick “cheese!” at Two Bridges for the photo-call before powering into Princetown to re-stock the pockets. There was a plethora of tooth-rotting ‘power’ food on option and like children in a sweet shop, we obliged ourselves of copious quantities. Stephen’s breakfast of chilli and pasta was now working its dark art, despite having provided copious propulsion and creating waves on Venford reservoir.

It took Julian about six miles to consume his first energy ‘gel’. His face was a picture on every gulp/gag. Mmmm – blackcurrant! There was a little wind in our faces (thankfully Stephen was not leading at this point) on the route from Princetown along familiar roads past Postbridge, climbing up to the Warren House Inn. No time for a pint and a pie as we dropped delightfully towards Moretonhampstead. Resting those quads was a prerequisite for the climb ahead. A sharp rise that twisted and turned out of Moretonhampstead separated us into Julian and Stephen (the chain gang) and Colin with Greg (panning for Gold).

A superb 15 miles of descent and undulation saw all come in for a solid silver place. Colin and Greg’s Gold efforts were dashed at the 4 miles to go mark by Southwest Highways and a lonely marshal on the traffic lights.

A brief stint at race HQ taking in the retail therapy of others (anyone fancy a Reading Cycle Club jersey for a fiver????) and a West’s pasty beckoned. A pint somewhere on Dartmoor that Stephen navigated to but we’ll never find again with a bowl of chips with ample chatter rounded the day off.

And that, Gentlemen of Willowby, is about all. Except to say that if you too, fancy a piece of my wall; mounted on another piece of my wall; with a small plastic faux-brass plaque on it; then just maybe, the Dartmoor Classic is for you!

Report by Greg