I was supposed to be on the 100 km Spring into the Dales (again) but rail replacement buses and getting lost caused me to arrive at the depart just as the Spring riders were being dispatched…the ever-accommodating Chris Crossland transferred me to the 50 km ride which was no stroll in the park.
57 km, 4 hrs 30; 110 km all together
I saw this event on the audax calendar some time ago when I was planning the year’s rides (with LEL training lurking in my mind). It was both on my 40th birthday and visited Mull, where I had a fantastic holiday a couple of years ago, so I couldn’t resist. Clearly a long weekend would be required, and when I looked at train tickets an even longer one was needed to avoid the cyclists enemy, the rail replacement bus service. If my LEL preparation had gone to plan I would have completed one if not two 200 kms by now, but life being what it is I only had my disastrous painful slog to go on. But I had done one before, so I ‘knew’ I could do this.
Friday was spent travelling by train to Fort William. Not the best of beginnings, as I had mis-remembered the time of my train from Leeds by half an hour and had to make use of my ‘contingency’ time; thinking that getting up at 5.30 am would allow me a leisurely preparation it became a case of having to forget about that second cup of tea. It takes a long time in Leeds station to get up and down in the lifts so an early arrival is necessary. Train one, Leeds – Edinburgh, was an old Virgin with those doors that need to be opened from the inside via the window, which although rather nice are also rather deadly and I thought had been outlawed some time ago. Bikes in the ‘guard’s van’ which was also doing time as storage space for bottles of water, one of which was in the way of the bike rack and happily found its way into my thirsty pocket. No problems unloading in Edinburgh and I had intentionally booked trains to allow plenty of time to change. Then a short trip to Glasgow Queen Street for the connection to Fort William. There were a few other cyclists at Queen Street and I started to wonder how we’d all get on the train, but it turns out they have superior capacity with 6 bike spaces (per 2 carriages I think, certainly 6 to Fort William on this one). I had an advance ticket and hence a booked seat, so I didn’t see the other cyclists once I’d sat down. The journey north past Loch Lomond, on to Crianlarich and then across Ranoch Moor is splendid. It was pretty wet but I did much more window-gazing than book reading. There were lots of deer, mostly stags, not easy to spot as they are the same colour as the land.
Arriving in Fort William I did a decent amount of faffing but it still continued to rain as I left the station, which seemed rather a convoluted route through the nearby supermarket car park, and although I came straight out onto the A82 I was keen to make sure it was going in the right direction! Riding out of town I was amazed at all the B&B and Guest House signs displaying ‘No Vacancies’ (how many people are riding this audax?), it was only much later that it occurred to me that they were still closed for the winter. Not the nicest of roads as the traffic was quite fast, and it was raining quite a bit so just a case of head down and get on with it. About half way the rain stopped and by the time I got to Ballachulish the sun was out.
I spotted the turn-off that I’d need tomorrow to find the start, and the campsite I’d identified wasn’t much further on. Invercoe Campsite is open all year and the owners seemed very relaxed, I had to make a point of remembering to pay before I left. Beautiful location and nice facilities.
My parents were not letting me entirely ignore my birthday so had planned to come up from their home in Dumfries and Galloway in their camper van and visit. Usually anything involving timings goes to pot but they surprised me by driving past my campsite (they were staying at a different one) just as I had started putting up my tent. Once they’d installed themselves we had a few drinks in the Glencoe Gathering pub before a not-too-late night.
I was woken a few times in the night by rain, which was still falling on and off when I left for Ballachulish Village Hall. The campsite had a shelter, intended for barbecuing when the weather has other plans, but the owner recommended it as somewhere to keep bikes overnight and when I went in to get mine I found a couple of other randonneurs having a fight with a stove in an attempt to cook pre-ride porridge. I hadn’t brought any food or cooking stuff with me, and had spent the past three weeks mostly avoiding carbs, so this was to be a ride without relying on sugar and starch if all went to plan (although I had emergency jelly beans and gel in the rack bag). I was at the hall in plenty of time and had a couple of cups of tea, before heading off in the first batch of riders dismissed by organiser Graeme. This was a logistically complicated ride but it had been very well explained by Graeme, with ferry times for fast, medium and full value riders indicated, however we were all supposed to get the same first ferry, the 7.50 from Corran to Ardgour (mainland to mainland). When I heard that we’d all (about 70 riders) fit on the one crossing I was surprised, but there was plenty of room and the ferry staff, who had been well-informed of our arrival, were excellent all through the ride.
Somehow I managed to be first off the boat, but keeping out of the way to let the few motor vehicles off I ended up towards the back of the pack. And there I was to remain! Graeme had come over on the same ferry by car and passed us before heading to Lochaline to sign brevet cards at the first control. On leaving Ardour we had the option of following the routesheet, which directed us via the more scenic route towards Strontian before quite a climb, or taking a flatter coast road which we were warned was of very poor quality. I didn’t see anyone taking the second option.
Having been warned of a ‘bastard hill’ I thought the first one wasn’t too bad, but I was soon to realise which was being referred to. Once the road turned south-ish towards Lochaline it went up, and up, and up.
Eventually it must have started to go down but I don’t remember that quite so clearly. I’d passed a couple of riders (unusual for me) but coming over the top and feeling a bit of rain (and not being very warm) I stopped to put my waterproof back on and they went by. Sometime around here I started thinking about the next ferry; I’d thought that I’d make the 10.35 am from Lochaline to Fishnish (Mull) based on my usual speed, but I could see it would be tight. As it was the rear doors had just been raised and the boat started to move as I descended to the control…very frustrating. But Graeme was there to not only stamp my card but impart relaxing words, and I was soon joined by Marcus, another rider. It turned out that two people had made the early crossing, everyone else was on the one we’d just missed, and there would be two of us bringing up the rear for the remainder of the ride. The folk running the cafe at the Lochaline ferry terminal were just getting their breath back after the onslaught of most of the field so I think were quite pleased that it was just the two of us now, and we had plenty of time to wait for the next boat. I looked for a low carb something to eat so went for lentil soup, and a coffee, because I think I should need one at this point. I had a marmite cheese that I’d brought along with me too. It didn’t take long for me to start feeling sick, and there were moments when I thought I would suddenly reproduce the soup on the nice clean gravel outside the cafe, but it stayed down.
Once the 11.10 very arrived we were asked to board before the cars and put the bikes in a couple of wheel racks – goodness knows where everyone secured them on the previous boat. We’d been instructed to buy a ‘hopscotch’ ticket onboard which would get us back to Oban later, at £5.60 this is the same price as a foot passenger. Once on Mull I recognised the roads for a short time until we turned off for Salen. I’m not very good at riding with other people and found I was going very sightly faster than Marcus, although he would catch me on descents, but after a while I had lost sight of him so I waited at a junction so we could continue together. After Gruline the road clings to the coast and we were treated to some great clear views, although the wind was not exactly helping.
The Treshnish Isles were visible in the distance, some distinctive outlines which I recognised from my previous visit. The road then turned inland and we started playing hare and tortoise with a van full of birdwatchers for the next little while. I lost sight of Marcus again but decided to press on and wait at the next control. On the whole the descents on this ride were excellent, as the road ahead was in full view so no braking was required, but in this stretch a heavily pregnant cow and later some calves caused some cautious slowing down. The road meets the shore of Loch Scridain and then the main A road. Our control was at the Pennyghael Stores, and once again I recognise the road from my earlier bus journeys. The shop had a very friendly ginger cat, as well as stickers to mark our passage and tea/coffee plus a roll which was included in our entry fee. This is the sort of thing that I’d never ‘expect’ on a ride and is much appreciated. As it was I just had the tea, and feeling better had some nuts and a bit of cheese.
I had previously travelled the whole of the next section to Craignure by bus, during which gradients are of course less noticeable, but the climb up Glen More was a pleasant one in the continuing sun. I passed the lochs that I’d walked along on my previous visit and then Loch Spelve where I’d waited (quite happily) two hours for a bus. I arrived at Craignure a little before Marcus, we’d both realised at the previous control that there was no chance we’d make the previous ferry so it had been a fairly relaxed leg and we had a bit of time for a cup of tea from the shop. The ferry staff asked how many more of us were expected (none) and commented on how many riders had been on the last crossing. We were entertained by watching the ferry approach, trying to work out which end was going to open and being amused by the technique of making contact with the jetty and using it to pivot around to line up with the landing stage. There was a section for bikes in the centre of the vehicle deck, again I wondered where they had fitted everyone in on the previous crossing. Marcus and I went upstairs for a comfy seat and discussed how we’d got into Audax, followed by discovering we have a few colleagues in common.
Back on the mainland in Oban and we knew we had 60 km to do in x hours, which was achievable for us both although we couldn’t hang about. Out from Oban the route follows a road to a car park and then an odd section of cycle path to rejoin the A85. The cycle path had the most crazy steep sections, including the final bit where a boy who saw us struggling opened the gate to let us through. The final crossing of the day took us on Connel bridge over Loch Etive, then all the way along the side of Loch Creran to answer an info control.
Soon it began to get dark, and it was just a case of head down and keep riding. Sometimes I’d pass Marcus on a climb and then he’d catch me, eventually I pulled ahead but could see him not far off when the road allowed. At last I arrived at the road works outside Ballachulish centre, and I thought Marcus would catch up while I waited at the red light, it would have been nice to finish together, but I rolled into the hall complete with fairy lights at 9.xx pm. Marcus eventually arrived with literally minutes to spare, having had to stop for cramp near the end. Graeme and crew fed us, I had some soup but still felt nauseous so didn’t risk the cake. My parents who turned up to wish me happy birthday were generously looked after, and we celebrated properly the next day.
An early start on Monday morning to catch the first train back home and another fantastic journey for window-gazing. A different route home taking the Carlisle – Settle line which had just reopened a couple of days before.
200 km, 13 hrs 50 mins
I don’t know what was wrong with me last time, as I found this – dare I say it – easy. A pleasant enough ride if a little uninteresting. The only section I was familiar with was Clumber Park, but in the opposite direction this time. The day was very mild and after the first stage I didn’t wear my windproof, and even at the start I had changed into thin gloves. The sun tried to come through the cloud with limited success.
I had brown rice the night before, then tea and a croissant on the train. First control at 44 km was at a village hall with local ladies (very stereotypically the only males in sight were the riders and orgs) providing tea/coffee and cakes. Nice but not cheap, I understand the proceeds go to a local church fund so it’s better than tax-avoidant Starbucks which furnished me with breakfast. Shortly after leaving the control I passed a couple of riders sitting on the verge, next to a pick-up with trailer facing in the wrong direction and two inhabitants. It didn’t look as if I could be of any assistance so I kept on going. I’ve since read on yacf that there were actually four riders, knocked off when a 4 x 4 towing a trailer overtook and came back in too quickly. The driver didn’t stop, one of those involved said they might not have even realised what had happened (it was a large trailer). The vehicle I saw was passing and the two guys in it sounded very helpful. The worst casualty had two cracked ribs.
On leaving Clumber Park a van slowed while passing me and the passenger warned that a wide load was coming up behind me and to watch out, always good to see considerate behaviour to balance the idiots. It was indeed very wide and had a police motorbike escort, but I turned off before they caught me up.
The second control was a free one in Southwell, which seemed a posh place complete with a minster. I settled for a sandwich from a small shop and a receipt, then found some public toilets. On the final leg back to Alfreton I stopped for the only photo of the ride, an addition to my collection of strangely located trig points (SK616558).
I shared the ‘two’ bikes spaces on the train back with a couple from Sheffield who I spoke to on last years’ Colourful Clumber. The station is very close to the start and even better the return there is downhill.
This was the first outing for my new luggage, a Carradice Super C rack bag. I bought this partly to use with the rack when combining audax with camping, but also as an alternative for a large saddle bag as there isn’t much room under my saddle. This also means that the rack bag needs to be quite far back which is a little inelegant but it seems very stable. I think I prefer this to having most of the weight in the bar bag, but I must get a small cafe lock as the one I took is heavy. I had no need of the full capacity on this ride (in fact I picked up 4 cans of Old Speckled Hen on the way home and had no difficulty fitting them in) but for longer/more remote rides it will be useful.
105 km, 6 hrs 5 mins
In which I DNF.
Unusually I got up early enough to have some porridge before I left the house. The early Saturday morning trains contained the dregs of Friday night, although mine was quiet. It wasn’t far from Rochdale station to the start (a pub), which was very busy and I just had time to pick up my brevet card and use the lav. I waited until most of the pack had gone before leaving as they’d only pass me (often too closely for my liking).
This route is almost all on A roads which is unlike most audaxes I have done, but going around Pendle Hill and then the Forest of Bowland they are not the busy sort. It also meant several long stretches with no turns, and as I often find concentrating on the route keeps me occupied (and stops me noticing if the kms are dragging past too slowly) I wondered how I’d find this. We left Rochdale and initially headed the way I had come on the train, to Todmorden. I don’t know this area very well so it was interesting to ride through and see the steep sided valleys. We passed JJ’s Diner which was a control on Mellow Fruitfulness, then through Burnley and Nelson up to the Highest point of the ride. There was a bit of sun at this point although visibility wasn’t that good, Pendle Hill could just about seen through the haze.
I hadn’t been feeling too good from the start, but this is often the case and I usually settle in to it. The first leg was 70 km, the longest I’ve ridden in one go, and I’d planned to eat a couple of times while moving. I stopped briefly once to take a layer off as it was a mild day, and again to take a photo.
Then down to Gisburn and on to Settle, where the Old Naked Man served as a control, a place I’d already enjoyed on the Way of the Roses. Although it had been a struggle I was on my schedule, arriving around 11.20 am. I had a fried egg roll and a large coffee, but as I was feeling like I needed more a went for a tiffin-type thing too. I think this may have been a mistake; I soon started to feel nauseous once I got going again and had visions of heading back to Settle and a train home.
The next section along the A65 to Devil’s Bridge in Kirby Lonsdale was probably one of the shortest I have ridden, at 26 km. I could see more places I’d been through on the WotR and was glad to be on this flatter route here. Devil’s Bridge was busy with bikers and cyclists, and after having had my card stamped by the controllers (operating out of a small van) I got a mug to tea from the mobile cafe, it being all I could stomach, and spent a few minutes watching the River Lune passing under the bridges. Surprisingly the tea perked me up and I set off still on my rough schedule. I exchanged a few words with some other riders here; a VC167 rider who rode slightly more slowly than me but stopped for less time so we were constantly passing each other, and a couple going slightly faster who I saw quite a few times (actually I don’t think they were a ‘couple’ because one didn’t know if the other took sugar in his tea).
Next was a fairly flat section, following the Lune to Lancaster. Through the city I followed signs more than the route sheet but seemed to come out the right way. I was feeling better during this section and tried to eat a little bit on the go. Then down the A6, past Lancaster University and parallel to the M6.
The final control at 136 km was The Barn, a cafe and shop, in Scorton. Some bits of it looked new, including a shelter bike storage area (including locks) which was rather good. I felt hungry so had a brie baguette and a large coffee, which came to a slightly steep £9-something.
The final stage was another 70 km and I planned to stop a couple of times, approximately each 25 km, to make it manageable. I had realised earlier that my fettling after the last ride had solved the difficulty I had been having of moving up from the middle to the top chain ring, but at the expense of the smallest ring which was now unaccessible. I tried changing the cable tension but it wasn’t enough, and so I did more honking up hills than I usually do. I’ve been on plenty of rides where this wouldn’t have been possible, so although this wasn’t flat I’m glad it didn’t have any stupidly steep hills.
After climbing up to Longridge on a section of unclassified roads there was a nice descent into Ribchester, a crossing of the Ribble and then the inevitable climb up the other side. I’d been along here in the opposite direction on the way to John o’Groats. I was feeling ok at this point, passed my VC167 rider again, and then stopped briefly on the edge of Blackburn for a bite to eat. We went through places called Salisbury and Wilpshire, and I started to wonder if they’d run out of place names in these parts. Soon I caught up with another three who’d been in the last control at the same time, and had stopped briefly at the side of the road here. They went on ahead and took a right turn earlier than the route sheet suggested; a wise move as I then had to negotiate a multi-lane roundabout by junction 6 of the M65.
The next section was horrendous, crossing Oswaldtwistle Moor. It was fully dark by now and had started to rain a little. I was really struggling, all I could see ahead was the road going up with no shelter or even a place to stop. I knew I had to keep going as stopping just at the side of the road wouldn’t be safe. Eventually a track or small road appeared on the left and I pulled in. Although going up hill I was getting cold because I was going so slowly, but first I had to take all my top clothes off to take a leak (cursing bib shorts). Then I swapped the wind shirt for my waterproof, and made myself eat more even though I didn’t feel like it, especially anything sweet which was all I had. Mr VC167 passed me at this point, he seemed to just be able to keep on going for ever.
Feeling slightly better and conscious that this was no place to get cold I started off again, and although I couldn’t see it I had done most of the climbing over the moor. I’d thought that what I needed was a coke from a petrol station or shop but the sugar seemed to have kicked in so when I passed several places in Haslingden I stupidly didn’t stop. It wasn’t long before I was feeling rough again, now my brain wasn’t working and I didn’t feel safe riding so I stopped and walked for a bit. A couple of other riders passed me (including Pompino guy who I think was on one of the last two rides I did), they asked if I was ok and I said I just needed a breather. I managed to start riding again just before Edenfield, where I hoped to find a pub I could stop in for a coke and to find the nearest train station. This was at 192 km which sounds so near the finish, but it seemed so far at the time.
Edenfield, however, had other plans and everything seemed closed, so I somehow kept going, up the final climb over the moors to Rochdale. I passed Ashworth Moor Reservoir, shining with the reflected lights of the surrounding towns, and as bad as I felt the lights spread out in the valley below looked rather beautiful from up here. This also marked the 200 km point, and I knew that at least I’d get back to Rochdale. Finishing seemed possible. Once in the city I missed a turning (not sure if that was routesheet or my error) and had to stop to look at the map on my phone. I worked out where I was and headed to the train station, having ridden from there to the start earlier I knew the way. I still didn’t know if I’d finish. The arrivée closed at 9.30 pm. It was about 8.45 pm when I got to the station, and that was enough for me. A train was due just then and happily was running a bit late, so I made it and called in as a DNF once it got underway. The person I spoke to said there was still one person unaccounted for.
I could have finished, but I’m not regretting choosing not to. I was still feeling sick at this point, it would have to have been a quick trip there and back so as not to miss the next (possibly last) train back to Leeds, but mostly I just had nothing left. I’d actually left Rochdale station at 7.30 am that morning, so technically had done a 200 km within time, albeit not a validate-able one.
The train was quite full with a lively crowd. What looked like a class full of A level students got on later, one of them voicing concerns that traces of powder were visible around her nose, as she’d snorted an Ecstasy tablet because she didn’t like the taste. Happily they’d all got off by Mytholmroyd and I was able to put the bike in a more sensible place and get a seat. On arrival in Leeds I got a bottle of Lucozade and had half of it before walking though the city centre, partly because that was all I felt like and also to avoid more merrymakers. I cycled a bit where it was flat or downhill but walked most of the way, getting back after 11 pm, too tired even for a shower.
I’m not sure it was just an off-day, or perhaps I was still suffering a little bit from the hideous cold/flu that had kept me off work for the best part of a week a couple of weeks previously, or maybe I made bad food choices. I still did 200 km and tried out a couple of new Appkit purchases which will be needed for longer rides. I had a Gamma head torch attached to my helmet with some elastic chord, which did a great job for reading the route sheet just using its little white LED; the bigger one would be useful if road signs etc needed to be seen but as most of the junctions on this ride were in lit places it wasn’t needed. The Fuelpod was great for accessing food while moving in thick gloves and didn’t interfere when riding. My knees touched it when honking but it didn’t bother me, I’m glad I got the medium rather than the large though.
Nature notes: lots of snowdrops and the first daffodils. The highlight was a flock of Lapwing performing aerobatics over a field at dusk.
207 km, 12 hrs 50 mins
76 kg
An overnight stop at my sister’s just a few miles from the start at Cheadle village hall meant I didn’t have to get up too early. I decided to go with carbs, so had pasta the evening before and porridge before I set off. The forecast was decent if cold, so I was surprised by the number of still-unclaimed brevet cards when I arrived about 8.15 am. Time for coffee, then the usual understated ‘right, off you go’ start.
First we passed Gatley station, which I made a mental note of in case I needed to get a train back afterwards. There are quite a few train stations on or near the route so plenty of bail-out options. After going through a bit of Wythenshawe (nothing I recognised) and around Manchester airport we were soon in the Cheshire lanes, passing a number of large houses. Footballer-land indeed. A few flakes of snow but nothing to be concerned by.
Around Tatton Park, and I think I recognised a bit from my John o’ Groats trip. The first control was at Delamere Station Cafe, nice and doing a good job of accommodating as it’s not a big place. I went for beans on toast, they warned that there would be a half hour wait for food which I decided to risk, it was more like 10 mins in the end. It started to rain/sleet while we were here so I put my waterproof on as I left. Of course it didn’t last long so I stopped to swap back to my windproof after a while.
Initially we’d been told there was a detour just after the control, and I had altered my route sheet to account for it. Then at the start we were told the original instructions were fine, but since I had obliterated them I had to stick to the detour. Unfortunately I didn’t go quite far enough for the turning, but thought I’d missed it and retraced, then spent a little while guessing before coming back on route. Thereafter I was mentally adding about 1.4 km to all the route sheet distances.
There was an info control on this section which asked for the phone number of what could have been a business or a cafe. There was no sign of the place named on the brevet card, so I took a photo of a cafe that was full of (other) cyclists and its phone number.
The control in Audlem was a cafe or receipt from the Co-op, there was space in the cafe so I opted for that. There was a group of 4 at the next table, and one of them, Chris, said he might need to tag along with me as the others were too fast…I thought he was joking but as we were all leaving about the same time he asked again, saying he had the route sheet in his pocket but no holder, and no sat nav, so could he follow me. I was a bit apprehensive as I usually ride alone and find having other people close by a bit of a distraction, not to mention having to make conversation. However it turned out that we were going about the same speed, and chatted on and off quite happily. The route was fairly flat here and I felt quite comfortable. At one point I could feel myself starting to struggle, but managed to eat a flapjack on the move and was fine afterwards.
It started to get gloomy, and I had to strain to read the route sheet. I had forgotten to bring my head torch, bollocks. Chris and I stopped at the third info control at Henbury for a break, and a few others joined us. I wolfed down my jelly beans without noticing the flavours. The question had us all stumped; ‘what sort of flowers does Flora sell?’ Well it seemed to be a garden centre, so presumably all sorts of flowers, and a coffee shop, alas closed. We wrote down a selection of information (e.g. ‘no idea but she’s been selling then since 1954’). Apparently the answer was silk. Neither this nor the previous mystery info seemed to be a problem for the organisers, I guessed they hadn’t checked them recently.
Now I couldn’t see my route sheet at all, but Chris knew where we were and so it was his turn to lead the way. Another missed turning had us nearly heading to Prestbury, but thankfully one of the others on the road near us noticed. Once we got back into built-up areas I was able to see the route sheet again by the street lights, but I had no idea if we were still on the intended route, fortunately Chris was confident and we started seeing signs to Cheadle.
Tomato soup and rolls at the finish was just what I needed. I wasn’t too bad but decided I didn’t want to ride all the way back into Manchester centre so thought I could take a train. By this point my sister was in a pub in Didsbury, so I rode there (only a few kms) and rehydrated before getting a train into Piccadilly, and then home. Unlike last time I had enough energy to ride the mostly uphill journey without issue.
155 km, 9 hrs 55 mins
76 kg
Entering rides at this time of year is always a bit of a gamble, but the weather was pretty much perfect; reasonably mild, dry, still. The route was also ideal for those of us who hadn’t been near a bike for about 3 weeks, being kindly flat.
The start time was 10 am which is fairly late for an audax, the idea being that if it was frosty/icy the sun might have melted it by then. After a leisurely coffee in Leeds station I got on the almost empty train, which then sat at the platform for an extra 15 minutes because of some overhead line problems. Although I had a little time in hand I had intentionally not left too early, knowing there would be no warm village hall to wait around in. I started to think about getting some cash out at York station for a statement to show my start time if the start had closed by the time I got there, or thinking that since I had the route sheet I could always just ride it and not worry about the brevet card and validation…but in the end it wasn’t a problem.
The ride was originally to start and finish at York train station (more like this please!) but the numbers expected at the start dictated a move a mile or so along the road, with the organiser’s car boot serving as an office. Eventually leaving the train station at 10 am I followed the instructions to Knavesmire road, missed the turning (according to the route sheet the was a kebab sign which I didn’t see) but quickly realised that the 20 or so cyclists crowded around a car probably marked the depart, so a quick u-turn got me back on track. Once registered I set off across the racecourse as instructed. Not 100% convinced I was going the right way I was relieved when some other riders caught me up. We followed the river Ouse for a while although it couldn’t often be seen. Some great pace names around here, Acaster Malbis was a favourite. Then west to the Wharfe and the first visit to Tadcaster before skirting the Thorpe Arch industrial estate. This was the only section of the route that I recognised, having visited a friend who works here a couple of months ago. I always like having little familiar sections as it helps the geography connect in my mind; when I visited my friend I took the bus and remember thinking the roads looked like they’d make a nice bike ride.
Approaching the first control at Boston Spa I could feel myself struggling, and coming up the small hill to the main street it was bonk time. Before the christmas lull I had been (mainly) avoiding carbs and although I’d eaten some on rides I had managed pretty well without emergency coke etc. The holiday diet had clearly allowed my body to get back into the blood sugar swinging habit though, so I did the only thing I could and got a bottle of cherry coke and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps for my receipt at the free control. Then I also ate the section of tortilla (i.e. Spanish omelette) that I had brought with me as a low-carb option. The coke did its thing reasonably quickly, but I know that once you start with the sugar you have to keep going.
I had pencilled in some vague times to work to, based on a riding speed of 21 kph, and I think I was about 15 minutes behind, which wasn’t bad as I’d effectively started a bit late. My pace might not have suffered during the cycling break but my neck, hands and most of all backside were certainly out of practice. My hands/arms were not helped as I’d spent the previous day hacking at the garden. I have at least developed good habits of moving fingers and toes periodically throughout rides to prevent pins and needles, and coming off the saddle and moving about to stretch back and neck. Must get back to pilates though.
Back through Tadcaster (now the West Riding part, the north-east of the town as passed through on the first stage is in the Ainsty of York, according to the definitive source of knowledge) and its brewing heritage became clear passing the Tower (Corrs) and John Smith’s breweries.
A short stretch of A road out of Tadcaster brought us to the B1223 which would be followed for the next 20 km, through Ulleskelf (a native Yorkshire-person required for pronunciation) and along Boggart Lane for some more great names. The next control was Selby, a garage was suggested but all that was required was a receipt, and seeing many cyclists in the forecourt and not really fancying a limp sterile sandwich I continued into the town centre. Everything was closed apart from a couple of pubs, but I had glimpsed a ‘retail park’ sign and found a Sainsbury’s, unfortunately without a cafe but with toilets and slightly more lively sandwiches.
The route sheet instructions for leaving Selby were not very helpful, and having stopped where no other audaxers were I had no reassuring sight of others, but it soon started to look right. After negotiating the crossing of an A road (actually fine, probably the large number of cones around roadworks helped in slowing people down) the route followed the B1228 more or less to the outskirts of York. Looking at the map this was nothing out of the ordinary, but riding it felt like a very long, featureless stretch. I tend to find that concentrating on the route sheet/map occupies my mind and so when there are no instructions required, no junctions, and in this case no features, the ride becomes rather monotonous. I was uncomfortable too, mainly on the saddle, which didn’t help.
Coming up to a big roundabout junction with the A64 a few of us bunched together, the rest scraping through an amber light while I was glad of the rest for the next green, only to pass some of them as a GPS had tried to send them down a slip road to the dual carriageway. We rode together from here on to the finish, the route sheet sort of gave up at this point so I was following road signs for the city centre, figuring (wrongly) that the train station would be well signed. The others mistook me for someone who knew where I was going, although now I look at the route as recorded by Strava it wasn’t quite the circuit of York that it felt like at the time, and my timing was still 15 mins off planned so nothing lost. Happily one of the company got to a point that he recognised and gave us directions to the arrivee – he wasn’t bothered about validation as he had a dog waiting at home. Once we got to the station my core skills proved invaluable and I was able to direct the others to the correct pub where the organisers were waiting. Although a pint was inviting I knew that I still had to get home so settled for a coffee and a bit of cycling chat/flirtation with William in Starbucks, then the next train to Leeds. Another rider was on it, going home to Huddersfield. The ride uphill in Leeds was a struggle, a combination of saddle-soreness, zero energy and slight nausea as I regretted the coffee.
103 km, 4 hrs 33 mins
77 kg
This is the first audax I’ve repeated, although I’ve learned that the excellent organiser makes a few changes each year – I think my previous excursion was anticlockwise. Last time involved a train up from Coventry, this time it was a train down from Leeds, and a 5 am alarm. As before the worst part was the bit between Chesterfield station and Bolster, before/after the ride itself. This year the organisers had decided to run the event on two consecutive Saturdays to cater for numbers, but chatting to one of them afterwards this had been a crazy amount of work and so next year will be one event, limited to 100 riders.
I arrived pleasantly early and so could relax over some coffee and even had time to level my saddle before the off. I got chatting to a couple who are organisers of a few rides around Sheffield, including the ‘ring of steel’ which I had seen earlier in the year. Very interesting to hear their perspective, and we were going at a similar speed so I spoke to them again at various points.
There were a couple of turnings that I would have missed if I hadn’t ridden it before or hadn’t been following others, and this is the only audax I’ve done where the route sheet didn’t have distances on so extra attention was required. The route goes through Clumber Park twice, and while the trees were in optimum autumn mode it was very overcast so we didn’t quite achieve ‘colourful’. The eastern section was slightly wet in a not-quite-raining way but it was a still and mild day (I was in shorts, single layer on top and thin gloves).
The route heads east through the park before going north east to Misterton. This was our one control (part from an info on the second section) and the cafe has had quite a makeover since last time. They did a marvellous job of coping with us.
After Misterton it was south to Treswell and then back towards Clumber Park. I was dreading the final stretch; starting at Bolsover which is the highest point for miles can mean only one thing, but it wasn’t too bad and I managed the whole ride without using my smallest chainring (only used for the pre and post ride sections!). I’d been surprised at my time of arrival at the halfway control and was very happy to finish in 5:10 hrs (last time was 6:40), with an average riding speed of 15 mph/24 mph.
Highlight: riding alongside a dragonfly.
106 km, 5:10 hrs
23/10/16
This ride started near York, which had the simultaneous benefits of being able to get to by train on Sunday morning and not being ridiculously hilly. A nice if chilly morning, and the city smelled of chocolate. An easy ride from York station along Haxby Road to Wigginton Recreation Hall. Lots of riders; I hung around outside checking out the bikes until the building shower became more like rain. It had stopped by the time we started, and for the rest of the day we had a few more showers but always short and never enough to justify waterproofs. As a bonus rainbows were visible at several points.
The event was ‘organised for North Yorkshire CTC by VC167’ whose members were conspicuous in their blue and yellow jerseys, as well as their large (to me) groups riding together. Not being a club member I am not comfortable with group riding but unfortunately those who are tend to assume that everyone else is, and will happily surround the individual rider expecting you to understand their calls, and occasionally they will empty their noses when in close proximity. Also I find that while such groups ride faster than me they also stop frequently, resulting in a tortoise/hare situation. One person, dawdling at once such pause while I came by, exclaimed “a tourer!” as if I had shown up to a 100 km road ride on a downhill mountain bike. I did enjoy riding up the hill on the straight (presumably Roman) road near Castle Howard using my triple, while others walked.
Enough grumbling. I got talking to a guy on a Surly with what I think were On-One Mungo bars; he said they were always mocked by his club. He was doing an ECE from Durham; much respect.
The first control was at Malton Morrisons where I felt surprisingly good and bought a pear and some cashew nuts. Then west, north and west again to the second control at Ampleforth College. I hadn’t looked this up so had no idea that there was an Abbey and Catholic boarding school here. It was very peaceful, the sort of place you would normally take time over visiting, so it seemed a bit incongruent to have a bunch of sweaty cyclists descending and eating everything in sight. The cafe, where stickers for brevet cards were obtained, was not only busy but had that smell of institutional catering that gives me the pure dry boak. So I settled for an ice cream from the shop.
The next section was my favourite, heading just into the North York Moors National Park and through Wass, a section I recognised from an ODL youth hostel weekend. Past Byland Abbey, and the route gives a view of the White Horse near Kilburn. Too far away to be worth stopping for a photo, but I tried using the GoPro whilst rising to capture some fellow riders up ahead.
With about 10 km to go I had a bit of a bonk and ate my emergency naked bar, which did the trick. I suspect I wouldn’t have needed it if I hadn’t had the ice cream sugar-injection at the last control. The last stretch was a fast ride along a B road into Wigginton. All day I had been passing and being passed by a guy on a Moulton (since revealed as ‘Dave’ on yacf) and a woman on something nice-but-unidentifiable which was orange with white sections and very audax-looking, and we arrived at pretty much the same time. I was also happy to catch Surly-guy in the last km and finish together – although he quickly headed off (presumably a pootle back to Durham) whereas I sat around with tea and cake before slowly rolling back to York.
102 km, 6:06 hrs
09/10/16
First audax for a long time, so a 55 km seemed like a good place to start. Although this also had 1.25 AAA points… Starting from Mytholmroyd at 10 am meant I could get the train and not be in a rush. There was another guy on the train doing the 100 km Season of Mists, and since the train got in at about 9 am when that ride was due to start I think I’d do that in future, a few minutes late starting would be fairly insignificant.
The short ride to Hebden Bridge provides a brief warm-up before the hellish climb to Heptonstall. I had managed to make it up there and over the first few metres of cobbles when a rider behind came off, so I stopped and gingerly started making my way back to check she was ok. By the time I got there several others had arrived and she was fine, but I knew there was no way I could ride now, staring on cobbles with legs like jelly, and feeling a bit vomity. So along with many others it was a walk over the cobbles until they finally became almost level. At Slack we headed west towards Blackshaw Head and then followed The Long Causeway, a great route which runs along the south west side of Heptonstall and Worsthorne Moors.
Then a drop down to a control at JJ’s Diner on the Burnley Road. The place was described as “a little Lancastrian”, but at times like this a bit of gruff efficiency can be just the job.
The middle section was, with some undulation, all ascent, and when looking at the route I’d thought it would be the worst part. However shortly before arriving at the second control at Coldwell a view of Widdop appeared, and with it the realisation that yes, the route did go that way. I’m glad that I didn’t speak to the rider who said “Widdop puts the fear of God into folk” until afterwards. The control was pleasant with excellent cake, most of us sat outside in the sun being amused by the puppies that one of the organisers had with them.
After a short steep downhill section the ascent up towards Widdop reservoir began. I’d already had a gear mis-change at the bottom and had to get off and spin the pedals by hand to make starting the hill, featuring cattle grid, possible. I got as far as I could but when a car came down in the opposite direction I felt too wobbly and gave up, getting off to walk. Happily I wasn’t alone, and chatted to a young woman whose riding companion was clearly simultaneously wanting to wait for her but also trying to keep pedalling. She said she normally did shorter rides but that her Dad up ahead (not partner, glad I hadn’t said anything embarrassing!) was a regular audaxer. There was a rusted car in the valley which had presumably come off the road some time ago; only the L plate seemed to be surviving the elements.
When I finally got back on I caught up with some club-types who had managed to ride up and were having a breather. One of them commented that I was “carrying a lot of weight”, referring to the bike rather than me, although I suspect reducing the latter would be more productive; all in all he came across as a bit of a prat. After this is was mainly downhill, past Hardcastle Crags where we had a work trip, and rejoining the route out at Slack.
Back through Heptonstall over the cobbles, it was a rough ride with arm and leg muscles absorbing all the bumps and simultaneously having to grip the brakes. I had been concerned about my left arm but in a wrist tubigrip it wasn’t anymore uncomfortable than my right by this point. Mr Prat followed behind me over the cobbles and we rode back to Mytholmroyd pretty much together, at which point I thought my weighty bike can’t have been too bad.
Arriving back at the hall I checked in with organiser Chris Crossland who said he thought he’d recognised me from a previous event (Spring into the Dales) which impressed me. As did the food on offer. The trains back to Leeds were hourly and I left hurriedly to make the next one, although I would have quite happily sat around for a bit longer. I was pleased to see the woman and her Dad I had spoken to earlier finishing just as I left.
55 km/34 miles, 1.25 AAA