Race Report | Mud & Sweat Night Race: Haldon Forest Park

“There are some questions that I can answer ‘yes’ to without hesitation, the kind of questions that have a pre-programmed response. For example, “would you like a biscuit?” or “shall we get a takeaway?”. However “Do you fancy a night cross country race in Devon?” has a different pre-programmed response, and it sounds like ‘cough’, but never one to step away from a challenge I found myself agreeing to it.” This is Alec Brunson’s story as he takes on the Mud & Sweat Night Race in Haldon Forest

Since my last enduro race, my time on the bike had dropped even lower, save for a few local jaunts in the woods, so what shred of fitness I had left would be fully called upon come race day. As far as XC racing goes, I don’t have a particularly illustrious palmarès. In my first (and only until this year’s ‘ Ard Rock Marathon) solo race, I caused a sizeable pileup on the second corner, due to me going for a gap that wasn’t there; at the time I blamed my 4X instinct, but in fact, I was just bloody stupid! I was the only guy in baggy shorts and skate shoes and after an hour of misery, I ended up with a nail in my tyre. Perhaps my first outing shouldn’t have been a humourless ‘Adam’s apple-infested’ round of a local league, but it ensured I didn’t bother with it again. I did take part in a relay with three friends later on that year, which was better, but it still consisted of the same sinewy banter-vacuums; who can’t go five minutes without mentioning ‘watts’ or ‘intervals on the turbo’!

Originally due to run on November 28th, high winds had forced the forest to close, so the race was pushed back two weeks to December 12th. The organisers sent out emails and texts promptly, and gave riders the option of the new date, or to transfer to the next race in January. I saw the message just as I was about to set off on my 3.5-hour journey, so thankfully no time was wasted and I went karting instead. The postponement actually turned out to be rather a good fortune from my point of view, as later that day, after I’d handed everyone their arse on the kart track, my body went into total meltdown and I was horrifically sick for the rest of the night. I thanked the weather for letting me keel over in the comfort in my own bath, rather than on the start line! Having taken a week or so to recover fully, I did some ‘pre-race training’ in the form of riding to work (once!), and became rather concerned as to how I was going to keep the hammer down for 20k. There would be no point in coming up with a game-plan to ensure some kind of self-preservation, as I’m about as disciplined as a 3-year-old who’s just heard the word ‘lolly’, so I decided it best to just go at it and stay stubborn.

I arrived at Haldon Forest at about 4 pm, by which time daylight had all but gone. I collected my race number and set out to ride the 5km course to get my eye in, my lights on low to avoid a mid-race power outage. I haven’t done an awful lot of trail riding at night, but armed with a good set of lights I didn’t feel hindered in the slightest; the tunnel vision effect does wonders for your focus, and I found myself attacking the unknown trail with little regard to personal safety.

The course was well marked out with reflective flags and was a good mixture of surface and style, taking in everything from trail-centre hardpack to narrow rooty singletrack, punctuated with some sharp climbs and wider fire roads for overtaking opportunities. The ground was wet, but nothing looked like it would turn into wheel-stopping gloop, so I left the mud tyres in the boot and helped myself to an extra couple of psi to make the most of the decent grip available.

By 6 pm the car park was full and the buzz of anticipation was evident, the sound of freehubs and the ‘pfft’ of pumps cutting through the rustling breeze. I had busied myself with trying to take a photo of myself performing some ‘maintenance’ when an ominous phrase diverted my attention. “I don’ t f*****g believe it”. The chap next to me in the car park had forgotten his front wheel and looked suitably stony-faced. His mate did the honourable thing and continued to laugh at him while I could only help by suggesting he starting practicing his wheelies. Luckily, a marshal was happy to lend out his front wheel, and the day (night) was saved – a strong reminder if it were needed, that these events can’t go ahead without the support of those who don’t mind standing in the cold and wet to facilitate our enjoyment, and on this particular occasion our dayglo-clad hero went beyond the call of duty. Top marks!

18.35 rolled around and it was time to get to the start line for the briefing, which was obviously at the bottom of the hill, a necessary evil to try and space riders out before the inevitable bottleneck when singletrack was reached. There was lots of friendly chatter in the bunch, and riders of all shapes and styles, highlighting the accessible nature of the event, a welcome relief from what I thought I knew about cross country.

With a blast of a klaxon, it was time to get a move on. Riders jostled for position up the relatively steep fire road, four to five riders across at times trying to judge which gap to go for and how long this pace could last. The slippery racing snakes up front had bolted and the newbies were shocking their bodies past the realms of comfort, while I was trying to remain calm and tap out a rhythm, taking opportunities to slip past the odd rider here and there.

Once into the forest, the only option was single file. I found myself wishing I’d opened it up a little more at the start as I found myself caught behind two riders on the steadier side with a clear trail in front of them. I made a dash for it at the next fire road and quickly caught up the next group in the trees; it became clear that to make up places I was going to have to give it hell whenever the track widened. Catching riders on the twisty stuff was a great confidence booster, but once pointed back up my engine showed it’s lack of tune.

I traded places with a few riders who I would stick with for most of the race, with me never managing to stay ahead on the climbs long enough to be able to create a gap. One rider, who shall be known as ‘Tree-Man’, managed to collide with the topiary very early on, which stopped a few of us in our tracks. If I’d have left a bit more of a gap I might have got around him, but alas, lesson learnt! That’s not to say I got round without issue. On the third lap, as I was starting to really flag, I almost lost it on some slippery roots, which was somewhat of a wake-up call as I reckon I’d have ended up in Exeter had I come off. I did also manage to shoulder barge a tree at a relatively low speed, which I’m glad nobody saw, as I’d have featured in someone else’s race blog, known as ‘Tree Pillock’ or something!

The most difficult section of the lap for me was the last kilometre or so. The mud was slightly deeper, and the roots slightly more persistent, but it was the wheel-sized (26” thanks for asking) holes that brought me to a painful crawl every time. The answer was more effort and more speed, but with my heart beating through my chest at this point that was easier said than done.

My pace over the four laps was pretty consistent, and despite my body’s best protests, I dug as deep as I could when I felt like I was slowing down. After all, I hadn’t driven nearly four hours for a steady bimble! After being ahead of Tree Man for most of the final lap, his fitness hadn’t run out like I’d hoped and I couldn’t keep with him, as he grunted his way past. I looked at my stem and drilled it over the line as a strange feeling washed over me. Had I done all four laps? Was that the finish line? I was clearly not used to the effort as I’d become somewhat disorientated, so I checked with the lady in charge of the timings who confirmed with a giggle that I had indeed finished and that I should go and get a mince pie.

I hung around for the prize giving, which revealed some stunning times; my generic GPS app had given me a time of 1 hour 26, whereas the winning times were hovering around the 1 hour 13 mark. The fastest time was set by 17-year-old Alfie Beaty, who must have had his Weetabix, as he put in a time of 1:08.46. As it turned out, I’d actually come second in the Sport category (U30s), which marks my first podium in a bike race ever! I finished 18th overall out of 74 finishers, which I’m pretty chuffed with, but there’s still that nagging feeling that I could have done better… I guess that means I’m a racer, right?

All in all, the event was great fun, well organised and welcomed all riders from hardened racers to those who just wanted to give it a go. With long and short route options it felt really inclusive, and what’s not to like about a mince pie and some mulled wine at the finish? I’m off to google ‘interval training on the turbo’ and ‘ 29ers’… Round 2 of the Night Rider series takes place at Saltram House, Plymouth on January 16th

For more info check mudandsweat’s website

Words: Alec Brunson Photos: Alec Brunson, Harry Way.