For the third year running, Pete prays the rain stays away as he heads to a quiet corner of Exmoor to take on The Merida EX Enduro.
Punchy climbs, great food, better descents and a vibe that many try to copy but few emulate, The EX Enduro is one of a kind.
Photos by Paul Box.
This year’s edition of The Merida EX Enduro started a little differently to my previous attempts. Usually I would wind my way south from Scotland at the end of a busy summer to completely rinse what was left in the tank over three days of Exmoor’s finest.
Keen to not feel awake ever again, I got to Exmoor via Dover, having spent almost a month in the eastern Alps and was a shell of a human when I got to Allerford. Rather than arrive the night prior, I made the absolute most of my Travelodge in Taunton before strolling into registration as they were packing up. Sorry all…
With the now obligatory Luff-produced coffee, I managed to do absolutely nothing in my still-dazed state as riders started putting their bikes in vans. I wouldn’t be the last though, but it took every ounce of what brain power I had left. For this edition, I would be handed a Merida One-Sixty, a bike I had got on famously with before, but this particular bike would be the slightly shorter travel, full 29″ version.
Even on stage one, where I had to pedal downhill into a ferocious headwind, the One-Sixty felt quick and very sure-footed. I soon forgot about the wind and rain, captivated as everyone else was by the rainbows that hung in the valley below.
In previous years, I would have to take notes of stages so I could remember them, this year my faff beforehand led me to just focus on keeping the show rolling, knowing that night stages were afoot and it would be a fairly late finish before the big day on Saturday.
The day stages passed by in a blur, and with the media squidders (Chris Hutchens, Anna Cipullo, Neil Cousins, Rich Ford, Guy Kez and Nick Clark) riding at the back of the pack, it wouldn’t be all that long until we were going back up the hill in the dark. You either have to give yourself way too much time so you can get warmed up, or no time at all so you don’t stiffen up. We did the latter.
As darkness fell, we were treated to a repeat of some of the day stages, but enough new offerings to keep us on our toes. A start marshall on stage two, suited up as a murderous bunny rabbit agreed to play some Megadeth for me and off into the darkness I went. My legs had nothing to offer in the day, but the second time around, I was giving it the beans.
Last year, the fast clatter down to dinner was all in low cloud and I was blinded the whole way by the light reflecting back at me. Thankfully, I didn’t need to echo-locate this time and could let the One-Sixty stretch its legs. We arrived at the barn to the usual feast of local foodstuffs and were happy to see that we were there hours prior to previous years and would get a decent kip as a result.
I made full use of my new van containing an actual bed, rather than closing my eyes overnight like I did in my old van, awaking to the breakfast spread put on by the Luffman. Saturday I knew was the biggie. I knew the now legendary feed stop was late in the day, but, what’s this? It isn’t raining so hard I could swim all the stages? Surely not…
Saturday was spent giggling to myself for the first quarter of the stage as Anna Cipullo broke a vocal chord with “PEDAL!” at the start of every stage, without fail. The scream would become increasingly desperate as the day went on, leaving my arms like jelly. Top work Anna.
At no point on Saturday could I decide which stage was best. They were all stone cold bangers, each slightly different to the last but with their own magic. Despite the overnight deluge, the trails were holding up well and the bike was starting to spool its second turbo. Riding in a bunch is the best. Just non-stop nonsense from the get-go. This is what I’d missed in previous editions.
Saturday night rolled around and we hoovered up our chili served by the most dapper marshals you’ll ever see. This was shortly followed by the roller racing and copious beverages. I decided to call it a night and slip back to the van as the skies cleared and the Milky Way wheeled overhead.
Sunday started a bit damp and dreich but the body felt pretty good. Coffee, food, ride bikes. A now familiar routine. My legs were working better than my brain and I marveled at the fact that we hadn’t yet been washed away as in previous years. Stages came thick and fast, before long, my option of being at the back saw me finishing stages as the clean up crew arrived at the top.
After the feed stop and towards the ‘Vominator’ climb, I bonked. Hard. My crew pedaled on and I pushed whatever food I had left down my throat. The Loftus crew were at the top of the final stage and I have never been happier to see sugar free pop. That was the kick I needed to get me down what is always a loose and wonderful final stage. Guy Kes would keep me going for the remainder.
A few turns into the last stage, a fellow competitor was running up the trail shouting “stop, stop, someone’s off… they’ve broken their leg”. Guy arrived with palpable relief as he saw it wasn’t me who’d gone a-cropper. A few minutes of loitering with the clean up crew and we pushed our bikes down to see a gent with a very Z-shaped lower leg. Happy healing my dude.
The loose, rocky turns that made me love this stage so much were arguably better when I wasn’t trying to race them, and it’s not like I was going to be anything but mid-pack anyway. That’s not really what The EX is about anyway… It’s a small group of very keen mountain bikers rinsing the tank and refilling it for three days. I’m just glad the weather sort of behaved this year.
The EX is nowhere near me. Google Maps says 8 hours 12. However, this was my third outing and I have enjoyed every single one of them. I even came stone dead last this year but rarely felt more comfortable on the bike, so I have no idea what’s going on there. Again, the result is not what makes this race special, it’s the combination of all the things, some tangible, others not that make The Ex what it is.
