Maubisse to Dili

Distance – 95km
Altitude gain - 965m
Going – Mostly downhill, with two or three climbs and a flat sprint finish into Dili
Surface – Mix of dirt and bitumen surfaces.

Sitting around after stage 4, I mentioned that the final stage, would be "the last chance for me/us to launch ridiculous attacks". Despite being said to garner a smile from tired friends, I knew that at their heart the comment was based on a very real desire to do well. I like to finish a race strongly, possibly more than I like to chase rabbits, leaving every bit of energy and every bit of doubt on the trail/road is hugely satisfying.

I got up early and packed my tent for the last time, like all the nights before, my sleep had been broken, but it was now par for the course and I gave it little thought. The sunrise through the hills we had climbed the day before was gorgeous. I'd like to use it to draw some parallel or quasi superstitious statement, but really I just thought it nice to take some time out and appreciate the quiet of the morning.



I rolled down to the start line early, stood around for a moment, then headed up the road to warm up my legs. I rode a couple of kms, out of the saddle, legs growing warm from the effort. A few locals thought they were seeing the start of the race and cheered, I giggled at the thought of me with this much of a gap, but shook my head to indicate I was just out riding.



Back down to the start line, I was still early, so tried to put myself close to the front. Somewhere behind me in Maubisse someone was cranking some heavy metal, I'm sure the sight of my bowed head and horns thrown up in the air was amusing to behold. For me it was a moment of peace, heavily distorted guitars moulding my mind for the race to come.

The stage started with a wave of an arm, and a surge from the front. There was a fight for 1st outright on GC, as well as plenty looking for a stage win. With some slower riders between me and the attacks I had to work my way forwards, past riders strung out from km 0.

Soon enough I crested the first climb and pointed the bike downwards, big legs may not have helped me up the climbs, but they were certainly helping me on the descents. Even with an unfair descending advantage I sought to maximise momentum and minimise effort. Apexing sweeping turns, hopping obstacles and drafting where I could I continued to move past riders and up places. As the roads hit the first flatter section I joined with a few riders who had jumped on my wheel and set about swapping turns together, eating away at the kms and catching riders shelled from the front bunch.

The small climbs that peppered the descent were usually ridden in a long line, a single rider setting the tempo, I set the pace for one, but was happy to let others dictate the speed for the rest. Once or twice I felt stretched, but I reminded myself that this was the last day to do silly things, and went back to chewing on my bars. The short nature of the climbs meant that I was inevitably soon recovered and feeling strong.

The KOM climb for the day was a rough fire road, one of the other mountain bikers in our bunch set the pace and I sat on his wheel while behind us the roadies were getting strung out. Over the KOM, it was time for the real giggles to begin with an extended fast rocky descent. Small pieces of singletrack (walking/goat trail) hugged the edge of the road in spots, we weaved and dived across the road, searching for the smoothest path. Bikes twisting, arms shaking, grins plastered from ear to ear.

The final descent was soon on us, open sealed road with fast flowing corners and a vista off the the left, much like the descent down Mt Buffalo. My tyres, grey from the dusty sections, had the side knobs scrubbed black. Lent into corner after corner the dirt had long since been ripped off to reveal clean rubber.

We reached the coast without much fanfare, a view of the turquoise ocean and a headwind were the only things to greet us. Knowing that we were within the last 15km, I sat in the bunch, opting out of the continual turns that had been the staple of my day. The rest gave me time to evaluate the race, we had around 12 riders, too many to ensure myself a good sprint result, something was going to have to change.

I had a friend in the bunch (Sam), so I suggested that we should 1-2 the bunch, he nodded in acknowledgement and like that I had a plan. One of us would attack, while the other sat in the bunch. If/when the first rider was brought back the second would attack. This process can be repeated a few times, slowly wearing down anyone willing to work to bring back the attacks, and leaving one of us up the road, clear for a good result.

As the crowds started to grow along the side of the road, it became difficult to spot landmarks and judge our progress though I had a rough idea how far there was to go by checking the Jesus statue further around the bay.

Into a big round about near the airport I launched myself past the bunch, head down, legs pumping the pedals, form gone in favour of raw power. After a few moments of mindless, all out effort I brought my brain back online and could sense a rider or two on my wheel. I flicked my elbow only to have Sam roll through. Ok so this wasn't quite the plan, but having a friend with me was perfect, it increased my odds. Sam looked tired, so I relieved him quickly. A few moments later I threw the elbow out again only to hear "there's like 3km to go man!". I looked over my shoulder and saw I had the company of 2-3 blokes including Sam, the rest of the bunch was stretched out 20-30 metres behind. I yelled a few times and when no one came through I attacked again. If they're not willing to work to create a break then I was going to break them.

By the time I turned my brain on again after the second attack I had been well and truly covered, the riders were sitting on my wheel. This time they pulled some turns but I was feeling the attack and dropped off when one of the Malaysians put a surge in up the right hand side of the road. I almost gave up, but he sat up along with the rider who had covered him, I was soon back across and we were together again.

The Malaysian rider tried to slow the tempo to allow a team mate to get across to us, so I surged again. I liked having friends with me, but I wasn't going to allow someone else to have the same advantage, especially considering the Malaysian sprinting prowess.

Headlong into the crowds covering the roads we went, police motorcycles, with sirens wailing, carved a passage for us. Faces blurred, all that existed was the small ribbon of road between the us and the motorbike. Suddenly the flags of the finish appeared in front of us. I felt the Malaysian to my right kick, I stood and put everything I had into my pedals. His kick had gained him a bike length, but it wasn't getting bigger, time stretched to seem like an eternity, I desperately searched for a few more Watts, to get my wheel past his. The line came and went in a flash. 5 days of pain sweat and gears were over, that was it, all that was left was to suck desperately at the air, to try and get some oxygen to my screaming body.

I rolled into the palace compound, a sea of emotion flooding through my tired body, there weren't many riders hanging around, I hoped this meant a good result.

SBS has footage of my final sprint here at 1:05. You can see the Malaysian kick on the left a few moments before me (2nd from left).

My trusty Cubano with the flag I was handed moments before I attacked.


5 days of racing is always going to end with helmet hair.



Post race nap time!



Stage time: 3:31.02
Official Stage place: 9th
Stage place: 8th
Overall place: 20th

There was an issue with timing for the stage, somehow they'd missed counting me and the rider behind me. When we were getting this sorted out they entered his name before mine, and when asked about the fact that this put him in 8th and me in 9th they responded "why does the place matter? you get the same time". It mattered a lot to me, but the timing was done by volunteers who'd worked their arses off all week, so we left knowing in our minds that Neil rather than Nell had secured 8th. Next year I might ensure I spell my name right so that I get ALL the credit. :P