The inaugural Tour de Tweed (or Battle on the Border) is a race that was hastily put together following the collapse of the Tour of Sunshine Coast. Time was against the organisers, but going for them was an incredible scenic backdrop and strong institutional backing from the local council and businesses. And so it was that a great race has been born. Despite a few glitches this Tour has all the makings of a classic for club cyclists around Australia, particularly Masters cyclists looking for a multi-day challenge without the enormous climbs of the Tour of Bright.
I was originally a bit disappointed about the demise of the TSC, which really suited my style of riding, but decided to enter its replacement as a means of escaping the Canberra winter and visiting my family, who had just moved to the QLD border. The format of the race seemed promising: TT and road race on day one; long road race on day 2; and a criterium on day 3. The 15% gradient on one of the climbs seemed a bit daunting for a non-climber, but by Canberra standards there was nothing too onerous. As the race guide states, the climbs are designed to be challenging, but not definitive. And so it turned out that all the road races ended up in a bunch finish, except for one crucial break away.
But let me back up a bit and begin with the timetrial on day one. The masters A riders had a reasonably early start on the Saturday morning, so I’d decided to turn up the day before and scope the course out, thank goodness!!! The course turned out to be a sort of rainforest ideal with a road surface that would make the cobblestones of Belgium blush! My favourite part was the short descent into a sharp left-hander (which was wet with a trainline going right through the middle of it) that then turned right onto a wooden bridge with transverse boards designed to achieve maximum bone-shaking. I was sure someone would come a cropper on it and seriously thought about whether to put the disk on (a few people decided to ride conventional bikes).
Now, in theory the TT course should have suited me to a “Tee” (or should that be "TT" — boom, boom): with the rough surface (being a heavier, power rider); two small power hills and 8km distance. However in reality I struggled to get into a rhythm, partly due to my new found caution after being involved in the Cootamundra crash — this came in very handy on stage 3, as you’ll read!!! — and partly because I was wheezing with asthma that I’ve only had informally diagnosed and did not medicate because I don’t have the proper exemption to do so. But the worst handicap occurred when, coming back over the jaw-slapping bridge, my front brake slipped and began rubbing heavily on the rim. I think I lost more time trying to fix the brake than from friction, but in any case I only ended up coming back in 5th place, albeit within 20 seconds of the leader. Still, after emphatically winning the Masters TT in Bright I’d hoped for more. In a way it wasn’t surprising. I remember seeing the guy who ended up winning (first name Nikoli aka ‘The Russian’) before the start warming up on his P4 Cervelo and Virgin air team kit thinking that the Elite guys had really nice bikes! But of course he wasn’t an elite rider; he was in my category as a Masters cat 1 rider (a category that is being abolished after this year because most decent riders young enough to rider Masters 1 are still riding elite). Now, far be it from me to use the term ‘burglar’ — this was perfectly legal after all — but in reality there were five or so serious riders who fell into this category who most of us in the race were giving 10 years to. Not sure why they didn’t choose to ride elite, but I did wonder whether they considered the race easy money. At this stage I was wishing I had the (Graeme) Albinator with me to help show these guys what old fellas can do!
So I set about making strategic friends as quickly as possible. I found the third placed rider after the TT (Craig Taylor) who is also a world champion at the masters level and recommended to me by Simon Claringbold as a handy break away partner. (The merit of this approach was reinforced by a very jitter bunch and a crash on the first climb where a nervy rider swung into an elite B rider, breaking his Zipp 303 front wheel.) He and I decided that we’d go on the second lap after the climb, just before the race hit a series of technical corners and into terrain that would be hard to spot us up the road. The break itself worked like a charm and we got away with ease, but after a km I looked back and saw the bunch bearing back down on us. Incredibly it was the U19 and elite riders doing the driving, an we weren’t even in their race!!!! We tried to get away a couple more times, with the same result: riders from the other categories chased us down.
More frustrating was the fact that the Russian slipped off the front a lap later with two riders from the other categories and no-one chased! So I drove hard down a hill and got within 30m of the escape. As I was about to bridge (near the bridge!) I looked back to see the rest of the pack in a long line behind me and thought to myself that I should let them share the work and swung off, upon which the whole bunch sat up to watch the escapees slip back up the road. A bit bemused, I didn’t worry too much because the pace was reasonably high and I figured we’d pull the escape before the finish. (Something you should never take for granted if you don’t have team mates with the ability and will to make the chase happen!!!) Sure enough, the break stuck and stayed about 30 seconds away to the finish, or at least the ‘Russian’ did.
As for the whole race (except the climbs) I was stuck near the front leading into the sprint, following the wheel of the best sprinter I knew in the bunch (a local Murwillumbah masters rider by the name Constanza). Constanza seemed pretty determined to take the sprint and even took a detour off the side of the road to move around some riders holding things up at the front. I thought to myself ‘well, in for a penny....’ and swung out off the road behind him and the two of us took off for the line, just as we hear a crash behind us. (I found out later that this was caused by an U19 rider changing line and taking at and Elite B grade rider, who broke his femur.) I was feeling pretty strong, but not too keen to do anything dangerous to take the sprint. So when I was blocked out on the right I swung left into a small gap that Constanza had left open. But sure enough he closed the door and I had to
settle for second in the sprint, but third overall behind the Russian.
And the door closes in the sprint...
So that was that. It turned out that with time bonuses I’d moved from 5th to 3rd on general classification. Fortified with this knowledge I donned the compression tights and hopped in the ice bath in anticipation of a ding-dong battle in stage 3...
...but in a way it was a disappointing race. I’d tried to get away a few times, but early on in the race I was mainly concerned with keeping enough energy to get over the 15% 500m long climb heading toward the Stokers Siding loop that we’d ridden in stage 2. A minor gap did form, but I didn’t worry. If there’s anything I can do well it’s descend a mountain, so I didn’t have too much trouble bringing the gap back (unlike the Canberra Tour, all the climbs at the Tour de Tweed are followed by descents). And the rest of the race we fairly conservative, with the lead riders in the Masters category hiding away in the bunch. The Russian stayed close to the front, as did I, with a slew of team mates there to chase any breaks (though he was plenty strong enough to do much of that himself). And so it seemed that the Russian was infallible, but I did pick a weakness: he wasn’t very good at cornering and I knew that the crit on the following day was technical, as was the last corner coming into the finale of stage 3. Neither of these was enough on its own to make up the 45 seconds he’d got on me with his break on stage 2, but if I played everything right and won both stages with a slight time gap I though I might be able to take him for first place on GC.
All this seemed a good idea until the skies opened up on the 30km final run back past Murwillumbah to Tumblegum, where the finish line (and a really good cafe!) awaited. I’d never raced in such heavy rain, with lightning falling around us too boot. The storm came from nowhere, since there’d been nothing but sun before that. I was sure the race would be neutralized, since I could barely see my hands, let alone the wheel in front. Feeling very nervous I chatted to Constanza (who I’d since befriended) about what the safest thing to would be: stay on the back or fight my way back up the front. Whatever the case I downgraded my ambitions from racing for the lead to simply staying upright. And so I went right to the front and drove the pace for a good part of the last 5km of the race, never getting further back than 3rd wheel. I simply didn’t care how much energy I spent. In the last km to go I’d missed a critical move by the Russian’s other ‘youngster’ team mates, with one launching the other off the front and then blocking. It was a great move, because the last km involved a climb over a bridge, which descended into a sharp right turn, then left into the last 500m to the line. I followed a surge by another rider, who faded, leaving me on the front. My choice was then stark, drive the pace, which would be safest, but kill my chances of placing well, or sit up to find a wheel to follow. I erred on the side of caution and drove the pace over the bridge and down the other side into the corner. Seeing the corner I wasn’t quite ready for just how nasty it was. Worse I’d forgotten who bad carbon wheels are for braking in the wet.
Sure enough, when I applied the brakes into the corner....nothing!!!! The gutter was fast approaching and, with 100 guys following me, also with no brakes, my options were limited. It’s here that a misspent youth riding motocross came in REAALLY handy. I put the bike sideways and my foot down to hold me up (you should see the worn metal on the bottom of the Speedplay cleats!!) Unbelievably I stayed up. Hooray! Then I heard the awful crunching sound of 20 guys coming down behind me!
As it turned out 5 other riders survived the corner. My new mate Constanza had made it through (the benefit of local knowledge!) and was on my wheel yelling at me to lead the sprint out. Now there was no real reason for me to do this, but I accelerated nonetheless, because you never know when you’re going to need allies, and hung onto that group to get 5th place with the same time. The interesting thing was that both the race leader and second place had come down in the crash and finished over a minute down, putting me in the lead. But because the crash occurred within 3km of the finish line the officials gave them the same time as my bunch. So much for benefit of riding smart and safe! Still, at least I’d kept all my skin, despite conceding the win.
And, as it turned out, indeed it was handy to make an ally, because I turned up to the last criterium race without my helmet (which I’d hung up to dry and forgot). So when I got to the race and saw Constanza I asked him whether he’d be able to help me find something. I then found out he was the local club president and was able to quickly source me something.
We then hatched a plan to get away very early on in the crit, using our cornering skills and sprinting abilities to advantage. It was the only way that we could get back the time on the Russian. I was still in third place, but only a few seconds behind second place. So I promised Constanza that if we got away I would give him the win, but otherwise I’d need the 10 second time bonus. Whatever happened, I was really looking forward to this crit. Not only was it super-technical, which I love! But we didn’t have those pesky B graders messing things up for us (or us for them).
One of the nasty corners on the crit course
As it turns out we did get away on the second lap of the crit for a couple of laps, but I lost Constanza on a couple of corners and he used a lot of energy to catch back up. I then found myself on my own and a fast approaching bunch. Realising that a break wasn’t going to happen I switched strategy to staying right at the front and covering absolutely everything during the race, including the attacks by the much fancied Trevor Ballyss (who apparently is a multiple Superbike -- motorbike -- World Champion, and funnily enough, rode a Ducati bike). I did this right until the last lap, when the Russian made a surge to the front and drove the pace hard. I couldn’t believe my luck, being second on his wheel. Nor could I believe that he thought he could ride the entire bunch off his wheel. Still, I was very grateful that he’d kept the pace high enough to stop anyone surging through right until before the last corner, where I launched my bid for the win.
Knowing that I could corner faster than most I’d planned to hit the last corner at the front as hard as I could and drive flat out for the last 150m to the line. It worked like a charm. The super-bike champion (Ballyss) was hard on my wheel into the corner but I’d managed to gap him slightly and accelerate away down the straight, making it a clear win.
I was ecstatic! My whole family had been there cheering me on and I didn’t want to let them down. Better still, I moved up into second place on GC.
So overall it was a great race, which would have been even better with a couple of team mates there. Next year I’ll try to talk the Albinator and Sean Moran into coming (both of whom are coming to Vikings to ride with MACT) so that we can really take it to the Russian and his fancy boy mates in Virgin! Well, we’ll see. Whatever happens it will be a great race with a great sense of comradeship among most of the riders, just like it was this year.
I’d thoroughly recommend the trip north for this one, despite a few glitches with mixed bunches, which will hopefully get sorted out for next year.
Simon Niemeyer
