I knew my petrol light was on but I’d passed the last filling station

By Brian Canty

Day Two down. Halfway there. Are we over the halfway mark mileage? I’m not too sure.

I’ve lost all track of space and time and logic and reason and there’s two words to explain why. Connor Pass.

It mythical. It’s magical. It’s steep. It’s bloody steep and it’s a leg-snapper. No other words to describe and it deserves its reputation as one of the most beautiful climbs in the country. But boy was it painful.

Today’s finale just reminded me of that stage from the 2010 Tour, I think everyone knows where this is going, of when Schleck and Contador dualled it side-by-side to the top.

The wind was here, the mist, the cold, the breeze, the searing brutality of it and those etched faces of pain.

I often wonder how I look, am I in as much pain as my facial expression suggests?

I see some guys and I wonder are they giving birth to elephants but I can only imagine I was a face of sheer misery today.

The stage was dangerously quick but thrilling at the same time.

I think there were three KOH climbs before the Connor Pass and I said at the team meeting this morning that the first one at 40k is the most crucial.

I rode it last year on a mountain bike and struggled so I thought today would be similar but funnily enough it wasn’t, and it was only until I got over it that I thought, hey, I have legs today! Sweet!

These KOH’s are a battle for the front and you have to scrap for every place.

If you’re at the back going into a KOH, good luck to you because youl will get dropped.

Or, at worst, grit your teeth and hang on, ride yourself into the red and the misery will be offset until the next time the road goes up.

Being at the front you almost get swept over the top and before you know it, you’re in the descent. I said this morning that if we all got over this one okay, we’d have good days.

I sensed this morning that we’d have a good day and I was proven right for a change.

You can always tell. Dave was up early and chowing his way through boxes of porridge by the time I joined the table.

I was fourth to the table, Longy was fifth but still, as usual, he looked fresh for an old fella! He was in good spirits, as was everyone.

The ride to the start in Dingle was 40 minutes or so and from the drop of the flag it was super fast.

80kph my speedo read back to me and I thought, please don’t let anyone fall in front of me because I am gonna get flung right into the Atlantic.

Speaking of which, that hostile wind hammered us for the first half of the race and 60k of crosswinds, head-cross, and headwind, is hard hard racing.

But we all felt good and stayed as close to the front as possible. Out of danger.

The second half of the race began to take its toll and I could feel my legs under increasing pressure.

They began to struggle but still at 80k gone, all five of us were in the front group and riding exceptionally well.

Longy was best and just has that permanent look of ‘I’m enjoying this’ on his face.

Dave has legs bigger than my upper body and mashes the gears with impressive strength. Ryan, for a man of 18 and one of the youngest in the race was mixing it up front while Donncha was spinning effortlessly, it seemed anyway.

But myself and Donncha made a mistake and paid dearly for it.

Our team soigneur Ger Moore was in the unofficial feed-zone by Lispole with a bottle for each of us.

Ryan, Longy and Dave all got fed but with two bottles to hand out still, Ger saw myself and Donncha tearing towards him.

I lost. Simply because to go to the side of the road where Ger was, meant riding straight into the wind and as we were on a climb, this was wasting un-necessary energy. Donncha took the risk. I deemed it too much of a risk and now had no bottles, 40k to the finish and relying on energy gels to get me there.

I knew my petrol light was on but I’d passed the last filling station.

I panicked and started to waste more energy in doing so. Sweating, I lost more water.

This is a one way ticket to hell unless I get water. I sucked what drops remained in the bottles and dug in. But the cramps started.

Front and back. I even started to get them in my feet and toes. It was horrific. I offered three riders ten euro for a bottle but they each fobbed me off. As I would have had.

I should have offered them more. I have to get to the Connor Pass with this group or I will lose massive time otherwise.

So I dropped back to the car. It’s hard to do because you leave the safe sanctuary of the bunch and pray you will be able to ride back up. It doesn’t always work. So I was glad to see Colm out the window with the bottles and he gives me the bottle I coveted!

I’m suffering now though and the bunch is riding away.

We’re 20k to go. I have to get back up. Robin Kelly whips past me unawares and I’m sickened I didn’t sit on him because if anyone can rode back up it’s Robin.

But I don’t get back on and I am dying a slow death here. 10k to go.

I reach the bottom of the Connor Pass and break it down into manageable chunks.

1k at a time, 2 and a half laps of a track. It’s purgatory all the way to the top and I start to hear voices. I can’t be far away.

The smattering of people grows to clusters and the volume increases.

2k to go. I jump out of the saddle and hammer it to the top.

A dead weight, I cross the line and Mr Crowley who does a fabulous job of MC for this event tells me there are still 70 riders out there. I lost 13 minutes in 20k. It’s not too bad.

Our men were incredible and though Donncha came in just behind me, Longy is just outside the top 20 overall – ahead of many pre face favourites, Dave is just behind him and Ryan is 12 or so minutes down on the leader Mark Dowling. Not bad for an 18-year-old.

142k tomorrow. Six nasty climbs. Lovely.

Thanks for reading

 

 

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