Andrew Mock Reports On His Cross Country Skiing Relapse

Into The Wombat - Part 3

With the shenanigans of the Rothethurmer weekend out of the way, Team Wombat relocated to Les Diableret (French-speaking Switzerland, not far from Gstaad) to contest the Swiss national championships. This was a positive development on two fronts - firstly, we were temporarily spared the horror of Ronan's grievous assault on the German language and secondly, the presence of the Australian junior/U23 team in an adjacent apartment meant that there were at least five extra people on hand to help push our patently unroadworthy car up the road to the trails each day.

Swiss Champs had originally been intended for the small town of Feutersoey, but due to the unseasonably warm conditions in the week leading up to the races (see pic below), they were moved at short notice to the top of a nearby pass, elevation 1700m. With a glacier on one side and a superb vista of the surrounding valleys on the other, the race course was certainly easy on the eye. But then, so are many large cat species, and that doesn't stop them from inflicting severe pain on you. There were three races scheduled for the week - a 10/15km classic on the Thursday, freestyle sprint on the Saturday and a skiathlon-style double pursuit on the Sunday.

To all you climate change sceptics out there - Switzerland in Jan. is not meant to be like this

It took us only a couple of hours in Les Diableret to realise that, while the Swiss may have a diploma from the local TAFE in rudeness, the French have several PhDs. Our crime: walking in to a half empty restaurant in search of somewhere to eat. Oh the nerve! After half an hour of the waiters studiously ignoring our presence, we began to fear that the waiters had mistaken us for Americans. Needless to say, we self-catered for the rest of our stay.

After a couple of days training in an around Les Diableret, the day of the classic race dawned and the time for trash-talk was over (Grimmer's strongest event). Waxing was challenging, primarily due to a fatal combination of Finn's absence (in Canada) and my ineptitude ('hey guys, does the sticky stuff go in the middle of the skis, or on the ends?'). No consensus was reached in the end - I raced on straight stick, Nick and Ronan raced on uncovered klister while Simbo and Alex raced on...I have no idea. Somewhere around the middle of the race, Team Wombat's experiences began to diverge. My stick-wax, while initially content, suffered a sudden and violent allergic reaction to the emergence of the sun from behind a mountain. While this resulted in what could best be described as a rather slippery last lap, it was nothing compared to the hardship being experienced by Ronan elsewhere on the course. At around the 6km mark, Ronan stepped out of the tracks to gain some extra purchase up a steep hill, and ended up with a lot more purchase than he'd bargained for. Despite repeated attempts to clear the unwanted mounds of snow firmly attached to the base of his skis, Ronan was unfortunately forced to DNF. Nick was more fortunate with his wax, and despite balling up in a few spots, skied strongly to record his best ever FIS points (130). Simbo skied like everyone knew he could/would, to be just two minutes back in what was a very hot field (sub-70 FIS points). I somehow managed to sneak under 120 FIS points, re-qualifying me for sprint world cup and thus significantly increasing the scope and potential magnitude of future floggings.

The Saturday of the sprint race marked the last day in Les Diableret for Ronan and myself. We had concocted a hair-brained scheme that would see us race the sprint time-trial in the morning before driving the entire breadth of Switzerland in order to participate in the Surselva night relay at 6:30pm that same evening, followed by the 25km Surselva 'marathon' (part of the Swiss Loppet series) the following morning. With so many aspects of this plan being so stupid, it is hard for me to pick my favourite. There is the fact that the plan relied on us not qualifying for sprint finals, the fact that the planned journey was all but impossible in the allotted time and finally, the fact that the relay required three skiers and we only had two (Grimmer, recognising parallels with Hume and Hovell's ill-fated journey across Australia, wisely decided not to come). To cut a long story short, after a harrowing 6hr drive including 30km of tunnels, countless mountain passes and a car train, we missed the start of the relay by 30mins. And Ronan got sick. Perversely, the only part of the plan that went right was that neither of us made the sprint finals...good times. By some miracle, I felt fantastic the following morning and had my best race of the trip so far, finishing 4th in the Surselva, 2:30min behind occasional German WC skier Tom Reichelt.

Why does the crowd always laugh when the announcer says 'Australia'?

In need of some rest and rehabilitation following what had been a fairly crazy four days, we headed for the serene surroundings of Seefeld in Tirol (near Innsbruck), quite possibly my favourite training destination in Europe. With the exception of people aged under seventy, Seefeld has it all - extensive and interesting trails, reliable snow and cheap booze. Provided that you're not a reformed alcoholic or allergic to schnitzel, I challenge anyone to dislike the place. After arriving on the Sunday night, Ronan and I spent the following four days resting, distance training and eating far more saturated fat than recommended by most cardiologists. On the following Thursday, we packed up the Renault once again (while trying to ignore its ever-worsening odour) and drove the 60km to Oberammergau for the next instalment of our great European tour. Our plan - to race the König Ludwig Lauf double (42km skate on Saturday, 21km classic on Sunday). To make it a challenge, we're going to throw in a sprint race on the Saturday night. Why? I wish I knew...

ADDENDUM:

[Warning: Not at all ski-related]

I have now been in Europe for slightly over one month. This is normally the point where my health, morale and sun-tan rapidly begin to deteriorate. Somewhat troublingly, despite a slight cold, things are still sailing along rather well. With the exception of a two-day period where I began referring to myself exclusively in the third-person, most mental health professionals would conclude that I am still, clinically speaking, sane. Unfortunately for my erstwhile travelling companion Nick Grimmer, his extended stay on the continent (2 months and counting) has not been so kind to his mental health. Our concern was first aroused when Ronan walked in unexpectedly one day to find Nick drinking wax remover from a wine glass and singing in falsetto. Before long, we began noticing subtle changes in Nick's wardrobe - he also appeared to be trying to grow a stubbly beard of some description. Our worst fears were realised when Nick's new-found obsession with disco music consumed his every waking hour and he stopped responding to his given name. A local doctor confirmed our initial diagnosis - Nick from suffering from a full-blown case of Georgemichaelitis.

Although performing remains George Michael's first love, skiing comes a close second

At the time of writing this, Nick has just left Team Wombat for California where he will be undergoing rehabilitation at the Royal Gorge ski resort. Team Wombat wishes him all the best for his recovery.

Into The Wombat - Part 1
Into The Wombat - Part 2
Into The Wombat - Part 4

[Note - here you can find the earlier Mock reports from 2002, 2003, 2005, 2006, Sapporo 2006, and Sapporo 2007]