Online Feature: The iXS MacAvalanche

Once we’d returned to the bottom the atmosphere had turned from nervy to hysterical – in a good and giggly way though. It was then time for the rider briefing. Fraser from No Fuss, usually the most relaxed events organiser in mountain biking looked like he was feeling the pressure – which was explained when he told the assembled crowd that the helicopter that was going to ferry us up the hill was costing around £100 per minute and there seemed to be uncertainty over whether it’d be able to fly in the wind. Either way, if we missed our designated flight then we’d get a chance to collect our bikes – the next day. The pressure was on.

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Briefing done it was time to eat and get kitted up and with the sound of helicopter blades starting to echo up the valley it all felt rather unreal. I spotted Singletrack locals Ben and George from Cycle:Recycle who’d driven up at the last minute to take part. They were practically bouncing with excitement, as was I. For some reason Apocalypse Now popped into my head and the Ride of the Valkyries seemed rather apt – it was just as well the ever-present Redbull DJ didn’t play that because it would have proved a bit too much for some, me included.

Kitted up and waiting for our flight slot it was all getting a bit giddy. I think the helicopter pilot was enjoying it – well, as much as someone who’s pulling the flying equivalent of rubbing your belly and patting your head can be – pulling massive sweeped turns and coming in at full chat, the uplift going much faster than anticipated. That of course had an effect on Fraser’s stress level, as he ran around the car park trying to marshal his metaphorical troops so no flights were missed.

I’ve never been in a helicopter before – much like most of the people there – and it’s quite a visceral experience. Plenty of noise and vibration, the world below distorted half by the perspex and half by the unnatural flying motion. As we rose to the top of the ridge the helicopter shimmied about in the wind, the pilot concentrating hard despite unchanging expression and the smallest of hand motions showing the odd physics balancing act going on. The expression of his passengers was a bit more lively – Ben in particular wearing biggest grin it’s possible to fit on a human face without surgical intervention.

I’ve obviously watched too many Vietnam films, as I exited the ‘chopper clutching rucksack in one hand and stooped over like I’d hit a hot LZ (?), the others exiting more casually. It had been the best uplift ever, that much was certain.

That bit of excitement over, it was time to wait for the real event. Riders huddled down in the rocky patch above the snowy startline trying to keep out of the wind. Spook from No Fuss told us that there was a slight last minute change – we wouldn’t be having a mass start on the bike, there was just too much potential for first corner carnage. We’d be having a running start to the bikes from lower down the slope. There’s nothing quite like having the blood pumping and being out of breathe before you even get on the bike eh?

Go to the next page for race time…