stage , I lead us the wrong way up an angry mountain . The track is not rocks , but literally the earth itself , jaggedly sticking out of the ground , and we both take a beating . At way point five , I suffer the inevitable : a flat front tyre and must stop . Jhoop carries on against the clock , but unfortunately takes air over a hill and continues forward into the trees , when the track bends left beneath him . He hits a tree head on and gives it a solid head butt , destroying the front end of his T7 in the process , but somehow managing to wedge the bike perfectly upright in the trees .
He is rushed to hospital , by our thankfully ever-present medic team , but is later released the same day to return to the wolfpack and ride in the van for the remaining two days . Watching him say goodbye as we roll out in the morning , I must check myself as I ’ m burnt-out and bitter , but he forlornly reminds me how much he wishes he was coming out with us today . As hard as this bloody race is , that feeling must be harder , and just shows how messed up we all are this deep into the dust . It the relentless torment of it all , it ’ s extremely easy to lose perspective , and remember just how amazing what we are doing is .
The biggest character for me is without a doubt Nicolas . He is a French hemp farmer from the Prynne ’ s , and rides a T7 , charmingly named ‘ camping gas ’ for its basic blue colour and yellow stripe . He has a fantastic , yet dark sense of humour , and is unequivocally rebellious , much like me . We both hate the rules but love to ride , and he can absolutely ride his bike beautifully .
While I am thrashing my bike to near death , he often parades past without any effort or concern , like he is walking down the Champs Elysée in front of a bunch of stunning women . Nico often torments other riders to gauge how good they are , and while it ’ s savage , it ’ s intensely
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