TWO conflicting thoughts occur as you sit with Stu Thomson in a Nevis Range gondola and wend your way slowly up the north face of Aonach Mor, all the way to 2,150ft and the top of the World Cup downhill course.
One thought is that Thomson, as one of the world’s top downhill riders, might be the perfect companion as you tackle one of the more extreme bike-related challenges. The other is that, as one of the world’s top downhill riders, he is possibly the wor
st companion.
Thomson, from Callander, enhanced his reputation considerably last year with fifth place in the Grouse Mountain round of the World Cup in Canada and a very impressive overall placing of 24th in the World Cup series.
He’s very good, very fast and utterly fearless. And hopefully, today, he is very patient.
After disembarking from the gondola we ignore the temptations of the Snowgoose Mountain Restaurant and unhook the customised dual-suspension downhill bike (kindly supplied by Off Beat Bikes of Fort William) to reach the World Cup course by a small path taking you to what is not so subtly known as the "launching pad".
For most riders this is a misnomer, being not so much a launch pad as a mercifully level bit of ground from which to roll gingerly forward. The 2.6km competition course, with a 525-metre vertical drop, looks formidable from the gondola and even more daunting from the launch pad, cutting sharply and narrowly down the hill, disappearing into some trees, and then re-emerging just above the car park, which is a speck in the distance.
It is the longest and most demanding course on the World Cup circuit, but still - or maybe because of this - it attracts thousands of amateurs a year, all of them drawn to the challenge. And a few, perhaps, with an eye on the clock to measure themselves against the world’s best.
For the record, the fastest time was set by last year’s winner, Cedric Gracia, with an astonishing 4min 8sec. From the top, it looks impossible to cover the distance in that time, even if you were to have your brake cables severed at the top.
The view from here is spectacular - Ben Nevis, the sea lochs of Loch Linnhe and Loch Eil and, on a clear day, the islands of the Inner Hebrides.
Thomson describes the course: "It starts quite flat, but it’ll not be like this at the World Cup, when there will be a start house and ramp. We’ll get a lot of speed fairly quickly; we’ll come sprinting out, reaching maybe 40mph. And because it’s so rough up here, it’ll feel faster.
"But then it drops away very quickly, until you’re slowed by two ‘bus stops,’ where the track veers off to the right and curls round to rejoin the course. And you pick up speed again very quickly - it’s so steep up here."
The course can be divided into three sections. The top is exposed, rough, rocky and steep; the middle part involves weaving into the woods and crossing burns; and the bottom is fast again, with fairly serious jumps.
There are also berms (steeply banked corners) and rock drop-offs, the latter instilling fear because you know, you just know, that falling off will be painful.
We negotiate one of these, with a 5ft drop, near the top, directly beneath the gondola. Thomson reminisces: "I crashed here two years ago. Then again further down, in the trees. You almost expect to fall off, though - it’s the only way to find out what your limits are."
We carry on down, fingers beginning to hurt from all the braking, and Thomson pointing out the corners where the race can be won or lost, and the jumps from which, if you approach them at speed, you soar high into the air. And I learn that if you approach them with the brakes on, you simply bobble over.
"There are corners where it’s very difficult to carry your speed through," explains Thomson, "and further down the course the surface is a lot softer, so there’s less speed. You hit this section and your arms are really sore from the top bit; now you have to pedal hard, really sprinting in the slower sections."
Near the end is a stretch known as the "motorway section", because it is wide, smooth and fast, where the mass of spectators gather, though they more or less line the course from top to bottom.
"There are four double jumps in quick succession," says Thomson. "You hit them as fast as you can to try to land on the next one; and if you land on the top you squeeze out even more speed.
"The bottom is very good for spectators, particularly just before the finish, where there’s a massive jump. But it’s good at the top, too, because there are fewer people and you see the riders fighting their way down."
Today there are no crowds, but we sweep past the imaginary thousands and across the finish line, stopping the clock on 11.40. Thomson says that’s respectable, "not bad at all". But really it’s a testament to his patience. Let loose, he recorded 4.17 last weekend - his best-time ever.
He thinks there are more seconds to be extracted from this humdinger of a course. And he prays he’ll find them next Sunday.
