cycling

Pit Ponies 100 km

04/12/21

This is a bit of a different audax, with extended off-road sections. They are mainly old rail trails so not muddy single track (well, there was mud). Consequently there were a variety of bikes in attendance; ‘normal’ audax road bikes, gravel bikes, mountain bikes, and a recumbent. I thought about putting my touring wheels back on for the ride, but was too lazy. The UK had been visited by a storm a week or so beforehand, although most of the large debris had been removed, with just one downed tree that we had to walk around/under. This also resulted in a large number of punctures, although I was lucky and escaped a fairy visit (Panaracer Pasela tyres).

The weather couldn’t have been much better; a few spots of rain but not enough to need a waterproof, and cold but just warm enough that there was no ice to worry about (only a small amount of residual snow on one of the off road sections which wasn’t slippery).

The trails might be around 25 – 30 % of the distance (educated guess) but it certainly felt like more than that, being much slower. Some really nice wooded sections which would probably be great at any time of the year, but I really enjoyed the wintery feel.

Definitely possible to consume more calories than used on this ride; there were some very tempting morsels (and nice coffee) at the start, and one control was a chippy (although I opted to go elsewhere, I know I feel crap if I eat too much en route). Then at the finish there was amazingly a three course menu, which again I didn’t manage to sample all of, but the bits of Dean’s cooking and baking I had were splendid.

Three Abbeys – Wigginton Autumn Brevet 100 km

16/10/21

First audax in a long time. I thought it would be straightforward after my tour, with a longest day covering 70 km fully loaded. Well it wasn’t as easy as I thought, I am just not used to spending so many hours on the bike with limited breaks.

Slow, and the last 10 km or so were quite uncomfortable. Must get more practice in.

I’ve done this one before, it’s a nice autumn ride with some lumps but nothing silly. Going on the villages and big houses spotted there is some serious money around here.

A nice accessible start via a train to York, although I managed to get lost in an infinite housing estate in Haxby so started 15 mins late. However for the first time I managed not to get lost in York on the way back, even finding Kat’s house where I was treated to soup.

Island hopping

Well the logistics for this trip were quite something (mainly to do with Colonsay sailings); and then subject to last minute changes with ferries cancelled after COVID outbreaks. Amazing weather and multiple sea swims.

18/08/21 – Leeds to Lochranza

Train to Ardrossan for the ferry.

After arriving in Brodick I took The String road over the middle of the island, then followed the coast north to Lochranza, where I had camped many years ago with my sisters. This time we had the company of some deer, at which point someone (the campsite manager?) fired a shot into the air to scare them off – apparently they have been fed by some campers and as a consequence were coming too close to the tents. So having a stag startled by a gun shot running around a campsite is going to help?

50 km, 13.6 kph average

19/08/21 Lochranza – Port Charlotte

Ferry to the, er, shaft of Scotland and a trip across the girth, to the day’s second ferry to Islay.

It was hard work, probably due to lack of fitness than anything else, but I eventually arrived at the excellent community pub/cafe/campsite/sports ground in Port Charlotte.

36 km, 15.8 kph average (my notebook says ‘hmm, felt like a bit more than that’; I assume I was referring to the distance)

20/08/21 Port Charlotte – Bowmore

On my way out from the campsite I stopped at the shop in Port Charlotte for some supplies, and the chap running it came out and said “it’s an unwritten rule that if anyone stops on an interesting looking bike I come out and take a look”. Well that’s a good rule in my book. He admired my mud flap, clocked the AUK badges on the panniers and we had a chat about the ride on Islay I remembered reading about in Ariveé.

A mild, windy day but it was mostly helpful as from the SW. I rode a loop around Kilchoman and had a paddle in the sea at Machar Bay, which wasn’t too cold.

Stopped at the RSPB visitors centre at Gruinart – it was open but unstaffed and the toilets were closed. My biggest issue now was a water supply, I was hoping to have been able to find some here. Rode up the west side of Loch Gruinart, which became increasingly gravelly. I’m pretty sure there would have been a great wild camping spot further on, but it would have been a walk for a few miles with no sign of water, so I decided to backtrack and got to the shop in Bridgend, by which time it had started to rain properly. The old woman in front of me at the till had lost her specs, and asked if any had been handed in. The staff member in fact had two ownerless pairs, and held one up, asking if they were the ones, to which the woman responded “I don’t know, I cannae see”.

On to Bowmore where I had a wander around and found that the church had an outside tap. There is a swimming pool here which I though might be useful for shower purposes but still in COVID times the opening hours were quite limited. There’s a public toilet anyway in the centre.

Then cycled out to Gartrack, again a gravel road once past the tip. A house here looked uninhabited, and I pitched my tent just above a small rocky beach. Quite a wind and I’m glad of the tent modifications I had made (extra tie-out points for guy lines to keep the back fly away from the inner).

57 km, 14.8 kph average

21/08/21 Bowmore – Port Ellen

Took the main road from Bowmore to Port Ellen, which goes past the airport, then followed the three distilleries cyclepath to Ardbeg at the end. A taste of An Oa much appreciated as it was quite wet.

Stop off at Kintra beach where there was a closed campsite and had a swim in the sea, place deserted (source of earwigs to be encountered later). Views of the posh island hotel across the links.

A hard and rough ride to the Mull of Oa, RSPB reserve and home of choughs, which I’ve never seen before. Also a memorial to Americans lost in two ship sinkings.

Back down to the Singing Sands just outside Port Ellen, for a wild camp on the dunes.

62 km, 13.8 kph average

22/08/21 Port Ellen – Port Charlotte

Breakfast on a picnic table in Port Ellen, then took the back road back to Bowmore, to find a load of classic cars posing in front of the distillery on a ‘Skyfall’ tour.

Stop off in Bruichladdich on the way back to the Port Charlotte campsite, to use the laundry facilities.

The morning’s dampness had cleared to give great views across to the Oa and beyond (Ireland?).

39 km, 15.7 kph average

23/08/21 Portnahaven

Paid a visit to the Port Charlotte natural history centre, and then cycled a loop around to Portnahaven.

Burials of various ages.

Back to the campsite for another swim in my own little bay.

30 km, 13.6 kph average

24/08/21 Port Charlotte – Jura

Over to Jura today.

Went as far north as Lagg Bay, would have liked to have had more time and go as far as possible but the ferry to Colonsay determined timings.

Down to Curran sands for another swim. Seemed warmer here and nothing but sand.

Camped in the field behind the beach, had to retreat into the tent as the midges were out in force.

77 km, 15.6 kph average

25/08/21 Jura – Colonsay

Midges were still around in the morning so as quick a pack up as possible.

Back to Feolin for the little ferry to Port Askaig. Stopped off at a church and the village hall to find water but without success, met a couple touring on Bromptons who were looking for the same thing. I would later bump into them a few times on Colonsay.

There were lots of bikes heading to Colonsay.

Left the bike to walk up to the top of the hill above Scalasaig, Beinn nan Gudairean (136 m, I think the second highest peak on the island).

Rode the long way (it’s all relative) via Kilchattan to Kiloran Bay, and had yet another swim.

Headed further north to find somewhere to camp (no campsites on the island), the track was very sandy in places so hard work even pushing. Lots of cows grazing and I had to keep going to find somewhere to stop that was clear of possible bull disruption. Eventually stopped by a little bay, Port Skibinis. There was a standing stone on the nearby hill, and a fish made out of stones that I later learned is the Colonsay Whale (ok not a fish).

34 km, 12.1 kph average (lots of pushing)

26/08/21 Colonsay – Oban

Up as the sun rose and had my one and only trowel use of the trip. Retraced my steps (literally), and met a farmer and sheep dogs on a quad bike, I guess I must have slept in his farm’s field.

Down to the south end of the island and a walk across The Strand at low tide to Oronsay. The sun was hot and I was flagging so didn’t get to explore properly; only on the return to Scalasaig and coffee, irn bru, soup and panini did I realise I had been running on empty.

Ferry back to Oban through some eerie mist.

26 km, 11.6 kph average

27 – 30/08/21 Oban – stop off at HQ – home

Had a day in Oban so rode up to the viewpoint at Pulpit Hill, and visited the town Museum, which is the classic volunteer run over-stuffed gem. Travelled to Lockerbie the next day and had a night with the parent before heading home.

Trip total distance 460 km

Hebrides

31/08/19 Train to Oban

Camping at the nearest place I could find.

Oban campsite Wine and hazelnuts in Oban Oban campsite Oban campsite

01/09/19 Barra

Ferry to Castlebay on Barra.  First couple of hours were nice; smooth and mostly sunny, through the gap between Mull and the mainland.  Then it got choppy and wet, but outer islands visible.  Lovely evening once on Barra, cycled down to Vatersay for a wild camp above the beach.

Oban and loading:

Oban Oban Oban, 'spoons Ferry in Oban Ferry in Oban 190901g

Ferry journey:

map on ferry looking back towards Oban from ferry On the ferry Another ferry near Oban Lighthouse on the mainland Rocks in the sea Lighthouse on the mainland Life ring on the ferry Seats on the ferry Lochaline ferry to Mull Seats on the ferry Measuring ropes on the ferry Mull from the ferry Tobermory, Mull from the ferry  Islands from the ferry

Barra and Vatersay:

Castlebay, Barra  Castlebay, Barra Castlebay, Barra Vatersay Vatersay Bay Vatersay Bay Wild camp on Vatersay Bay Bike parking, Vatersay Bay

02/09/19 Barra for an unplanned second night

Vatersay and Barra the next morning, when the weather started:

Castlebay, Barra Causeway from Vatersay to Barra

Memorial to those on a plane that crashed on Vatersay in 1944.  Amazing that the bits of plane are still here.

Memorial on Vatersay Memorial on Vatersay

A stop-off at the airport for a cafe visit, where the wifi informed me that the ferries to Eriskay were cancelled.  Headed to a campsite a bit further north.

airport/beach on Barra Clouds Clouds and islands Clouds Small island under the sun with surrounding dark clouds Outside view of a very small church Interior of a very small church Interior of a very small church The author in the rain Barra airport Barra airport

03/09/19 Catholics and Causeways

Ferries to Eriskay operational.

Vehicles on a ferry Bike with ferry in the background

Crossing to South Uist.

Sign in the causeway to Eriskay Causeway with 'otters crossing' sign, altered to look like a dinosaur/komodo dragon

A lot of catholic stuff.

Statue on South Uist, Mary and child

Relentless wind and rain, nothing out there to the west to temper it. MOD area on the north west of South Uist, and the crossing over to Benbecula.

Bleak landscape on South Uist (MOD area) Causeway to Benbecula

Over on North Uist there is nothing catholic whatsoever.

After a real slog through the wind and rain finally arrived at the campsite on the RSPB reserve at Balranald.

Graveyard at Balranald Graveyard at Balranald Beach (Traigh nam Faoghailean), Balranald campsite

04/09/19 – Refuge from the storm

By some miracle my tent didn’t blow away in the night, but there was no way I was going to try cycling anywhere in the still gale-force winds.  I splashed out on a happily available camping pod for the next night (well I got in there as soon as I could); I have never appreciated a roof over my head quite as much as this. The wind seemed to be considered severe by local standards, so I don’t think I was too much of a wimp.  I wasn’t expecting electricity, a mini kitchen, or feathered friends, so these were luxury.

Camping pod and bike Interior of camping pod Interior of camping pod House Martins in nest

Impressed by the people (gravediggers?) working outside during it all.

Image of graveyard on North Uist Image of graveyard on North Uist

05/09/19 (over the sea) to Skye

Feeling a bit weather-battered I thought my original plan to go on up to Lewis was a bit optimistic, so headed to Lochmaddy for the ferry to Skye (no ferries from Lewis connect with trains, I’d have to return to the mainland at Ullapool and then cycle some distance to pick up the train line).

An old microwave being used as a mailbox
Mailbox

A road on north uist with bicycle A road on north uist

Chambered cairn on north uist
Chambered cairn

Had a bit of time in Lochmaddy and had a look through the Runrig archive at the excellent local community centre/cafe/etc.  Also home to the most friendly cat I have ever met.

Goalposts and a footbal with a sign reading 'lochmaddy united' A piece of on old whisky bottle on the beach in lochmaddy A cat on my shoulders A cat on my panniers Ferry approaching the pier in lochmaddy

On arrival in Uig it was dark and cold, but the petrol station shop had Cairn o’Mhor wine, so it wasn’t all bad.

the seas through a ferry window covered in rain view of the front of a ferry wth scotland flag flying Interior of vehicle deck on a ferry

06/09/19 Skye

Weather improved from today.  Rode to Portree which was busy, seemed to be a music festival on.  Sat in a bus shelter for quote a while and managed to get new train tickets home from Kyle of Lochalsh.  The cheapest option turned out to be a seated ticket on the Sleeper from Inverness to Preston, which I was quite excited by.

View of Uig on Skye View of Uig on Skye A white church on Skye

Then on to Sligachan campsite for a couple of nights.

Tent and bike at Sligachan campsite, Syke View of mountains from Sligachan campsite, Skye

07/09/19 Skye

Sun today, and an unloaded ride up to Dunvegan and back, including a stop at a great coffee/book shop (at Struan I think).

View of a chess board and through a window on Skye

The castle area/car park was really busy, but I wasn’t that interested so went a bit further up the road (the quality of which declines suddenly after the car park) to try and see the castle.  Only afterwards did I learn that my friend’s Mother lives along this road.  It (the castle) is quite hidden away and from the distance I was at, somewhat underwhelming.

Dunvegan castle from a cheeky viewpoint The bay near Dunvegan castle

Nice cloudless views over the Cullins on the out and back ride.

View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan At Dun Beag on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan View on the road from Sligachan to Dunvegan

Balls of wool in an egg box
Bought this wool at a gallery/craft shop. Still (Dec 2021) haven’t done anything with it yet.

Dinner and lubrication in the Sligachan hotel this evening, both of which were excellent.

The author being amazed by the whisky collection in the Sligachan Inn, Skye

08/09/19 Skye to Kyle of Lochalsh

This was the only unpleasant cycling of the trip caused by other traffic, the road was busy and there were a lot of close passes.  I think a lot of folk had come up for the weekend at the last minute for the nice weather.  And were in a hurry to get home.  There were a couple of young lads on what can only be optimistically described as motorbikes, who I was more of less keeping up with due to the number of stops they had to make.

Camspite at Sligachan with a rainbow Clouds overing the summit of a hill near Sligachan campsite Loaded touring bike looking down a road just climbed View of road towards Broadford, Skye

Stopped at a nice cafe in Broadford, and then a bit of a mooch around in Kyleakin.

Skye bridge from Kyleakin Caisteal Maol, Kyleakin Loch Alsh from the Skye bridge

Lighthouse and trig point from the Skye bridge
Spot the trig point – must be one of the lowest.

Then over the bridge, and a last few miles to a campsite.

Loch Alsh from the mainland Loch Alsh from the mainland, with some people fishing in a small boat.

09/09/19 Kyle of Lochalsh and the Sleeper home

A wet morning, and fortunately I arrived at the station in plenty of time as the bike reservation I had made by phone hadn’t gone through, which sounded like a fairly normal occurrence.  Nice little museum there.

Old signal box at Kyle of Lochalsh Kyle of Lochalsh station Steps down to the sea at Kyle of Lochalsh station for loading livestock Sign in Museum about steps down to the sea at Kyle of Lochalsh station for loading livestock

Unicorn sticker on bike handlebars
Someone put this unicorn sticker on my handlebars while I was enjoying a cooked breakfast in the dry. It’s still there (2021).

Had time to meet up with Kirsteen in Inverness, before getting the Sleeper to Preston, where I spent an uncomfortable couple of hours before an early train to Leeds.

Inverness from the hill Sleeper train route Sleeper train leaving Preston

Route map of Uist and Skye
Route map including trains

Avalon Sunrise 400 km (DNF)

In Bath

Not a bath, which would be much more appropriate, coated as I am in sweat, sun cream, oil, general road dirt and dead flies. I’m waiting for a train to return me to Taunton so I can cycle up a fuck-off hill (again), to spend a night in my tent before going home tomorrow without a wash or change of clothes (my own fault, I was being minimalist in terms of luggage. This is why we have a sleeping bag liner).

dirty legs

I’ve been pretty impressed by my body today. I had a ‘general discomfort’ moment but after a stop and some food it was fine. My legs could have finished the ride, they just kept going. But I haven’t slept for 36 hours, and while I haven’t been nodding off on the bike instead I’ve been mentally spaced out (had this on BGB), it gets scary and doesn’t feel safe. Perhaps coming to do this ride was a mistake, given the way I’ve been feeling recently and that I’m only a week into this lot of medication. But I thought I was being lazy thinking of not starting, that it would be good to do some hard-core exercise and be outside.  And no matter how much I might hate it at the time, if I complete a ride the sense of achievement is inextinguishable.

Anyway I’m not supposed to be in Bath. I should be ‘next door’ in Bradford-upon-Avon getting a receipt and then setting off on the final stage of this ride, which is 100 km (longest stage on LEL was 97 km iirc and that was the first one when you have all the enthusiasm). I missed the Bradford turning but that only served to make my decision to DNF easier. I’ve done 300 km to here (still in time) but somehow it’s not much of an achievement when you’ve set out to do 400.

 

The morning after I have a couple of hours to kill in Taunton before my train home.

Clayhidon Church
Clayhidon Church

View from the Half-Moon pub, Clayhidon
View from the Half-Moon pub, Clayhidon

Hearing Sarah describe how she kept going to finish an hour over time put me to shame this morning. I thought yesterday that it had been a mistake to start, but now maybe just a mistake not to finish. Which is better I suppose. Ah well, hopefully I’ve burnt a few of the extra calories I’ve been eating recently, and maintained fitness for the 600 km I’m aiming for to get an SR this year. I should get myself an emergency bivvy bag so I can be more confident about just keeping going, knowing that I can stop as often as I need. This ride could be done as a perm starting wherever appropriate in the morning to align the timings with this one…stop it!

Last night on the ride up to Clayhidon I caught up with Hugo who was walking (I’d had 2 hours rest in Bath, food, and a nap on the train. I’m not sure I’d have made it without walking otherwise). He said he was broken and never doing it again. Now I think about it, I wasn’t thinking that when I was struggling; more sadness that once again I couldn’t keep myself awake enough to do it.  But yeah, I will do ‘it’ again.

A couple of chaps came over to speak to Marcus, Sarah and me while we were packing up this morning, Rob and Sh?, who lived near Chippenham. They’d ostensibly come over to look at my tent and then Rob was asking about my bike. I’m never sure when folk are interested in it if that’s a good thing or not. My Cheviot seems to be a little alien for audax, which makes me want to keep it and do them all on it. Someone in the coffee shop I am currently twiddling my thumbs in has just been explaining to his companion that the bike he wants is described as a “cafe racer”, and now I’ve looked it up the term seems to refer to motorbikes, but I did think that an audax bike may be best described as a “24hr garage racer”.

Campsite

Campsite at 9.50 pm
Light at 9.50 pm

So after the 22:30 start, when it hadn’t finished getting dark, we had a quick control in Tiverton. Then it was a simple matter of riding up the Exe valley with the sky still not quite black (it never really was), some stars out including a big yellow/orange one near the horizon – a planet? The over-half moon was bright to the west and glistened off the river in places, which was pretty special.

We had a control in someone’s house at 1:45 am – it was the home of the organiser’s mother, with his wife and daughter helping out. I didn’t know that until later, at the time it was just surreal to be parking bikes on someone’s front lawn and sitting in their living room eating flapjacks in the middle of the night. Riding up out of Minehead, after a while I realised that the light in the sky was getting brighter and so must be the first signs of dawn rather than the last glow of the previous day. To my left I thought I could see mist in a valley bellow, but then realised that it could be the sea and the lights beyond it the coast of Wales (it was).

As dawn proper came, I was on flat deserted roads and surrounded by mist. Sun was up by the time I passed Glastonbury but it was still misty and I couldn’t see the Tor until some time later when I was higher up at the edge of the Mendips. There was an amazing moment around Glastonbury riding through the mist which was bright and hazy, and approaching a darker patch suddenly the sun disappeared and I realised it was the shadow of a hill that I couldn’t see at all before.

Chedzoy Church
Chedzoy Church

King's Sedgemoor Drain
King’s Sedgemoor Drain

Fields in the morning sun Misty cobwebs

I missed the Esso garage in Nunny Catch (wins place name of the ride) but felt audax-enough to stop at a shop in Frome for a receipt and knew that it would suffice. I’d been physically uncomfortable leading up to this stop (neck especially) and spent a while eating and having a rest off the bike. Fine after that although I could feel a bit of saddle rub and made sure to put some more conotrane on when facilities permitted.

The Bath-Bristol tunnels were fab – several of us seemed to really enjoy these although I find it hard to explain why, but I’m pleased that I wasn’t alone in my geekiness.

The Severn bridge was both a highlight and marked a turning point, although the cycle path was badly signed and we went around in a bit of a circle; funny to visit Wales for about 15 minutes then leave again. Just over the bridge Sarah and I got mixed into a group ride and one of the leaders said ‘let the audax riders through’ which pretty much made my day (also they pointed us in the direction of Tesco which probably saved a lot more faffing). I didn’t stay long as I’d had a quick petrol station stop about 20 km before and was feeling good, and decided to have a proper stop at Wooton-under-Edge.  Although once I set off that didn’t last long and started to feel tired and spaced out again. Had a good hour in Wooton and ate too much.

Severn Bridge Severn Bridge

Feeling woken and rested by the Wooton stop didn’t last long, it was only 38 km to Bradford but I had to stop in Chipping Soddbury for half an hour before I did something stupid. I still wasn’t nodding off but just felt really out of it, very distant from myself, although still going on autopilot and managing to pedal and change gear as normal. I think the heat was getting to me now as well, it was baking, the sky had been clear since the start of the ride. Enough brain remained to know I wasn’t safe on the road, especially as some of these were A and B roads. Even when I felt more awake later I was taking chances at junctions that I wouldn’t normally.  I had half an hour lying on the grass in a park but didn’t really sleep much. Felt ok enough to continue for a while. Missed a turning for Bradford-upon-Avon where I’d pretty much decided to call it a day, I could have just followed a road sign further on to get there but the road I was on was familiar (the Exe – Buzzard went in the opposite direction) and I knew I could just stay on it to Bath. And then I could find the train station.  I had to wait 2 hours for a train with a bike reservation, although top marks to the station staff (GWR?) for being able to book a space at very short notice.  Then that ride out of Taunton again, up the never-ending hill, to the Half Moon pub.

As I am sitting writing this a bunch of Santas on motorbikes (and a few pillion elves) just rode through the middle of Taunton. In a heatwave in June. I’m pleased I can still tell the difference between sleep-deprived hallucinations and general human weirdness.

Avalon route

305 km, 19 hours 

Bike fit

Before LEL I saw lots of folk singing the praises of having a bike fit, and wondered if I should have done that but figured (a) it was a bit late by then, (b) £, and (c) it sounds like it might be bollocks. Well LEL left me with Achillies pain (after a couple of weeks they were ok) and nerve damage in my hands (which took about 6 months to recover from). I’ve also never been quite comfortable with my saddle, feeling like it is the least worst that I’ve tried. So I decided I would have a bike fit before doing any more silly distances. This sort of co-incideded with my birthday, so I was able to put the parental cheque to a specific use.  Of course as soon as I started looking all I could see were comments about bike fitting as being a waste of time.  I’m sure there’s a word for that – seeing what you either want, or don’t want, to see, and not seeing the rest.  Anyway if you think it’s bollocks and/or has been a waste of time, maybe you are lucky enough to be a shape that’s close to the ideal that bike manufacturers adhere to, or you are very experienced and know exactly what you need.  I’m neither of those things.

After consultation with a local fellow LELer I booked myself in for a basic fit with Stephen Jarmuz at Yorkshire Bike Fitting. Stephen is very friendly and put me at ease straight away.  He is interested in the type of riding that YOU are doing and wants to help you be comfortable doing that.  He was entirely non-judgemental about my bike and myself.

My bike is a Hewitt (tourer) and I had a fit as part of buying it. It was my first drop bar bike so when it felt weird I chalked that up to unfamiliarity.  Now I think that the fitting template that is used there was not right for me.  I fitted a shorter stem myself fairly soon after I got the bike, because I felt too stretched out.  Now, after my bike fit, I have an in-line seat post which unstretches me even more.  I also have a new saddle to fit my sit bones and a changed cleat position. So far I’ve done 100 km, and a further 40 km with my new wheels.  It really was like sitting in an old armchair…but one that encouraged me to get out of the saddle and honk up the hills.

Bike after bike fit

(It doesn’t usually come with a spare wheel attached).

Not Quite the Spurn Head 400 km (greenfly edition)

12/05/18

Mytholmroyd Community Centre

If certain residents of the Yorkshire village of Moss had reason to peer through their curtains shortly after 2.00 am on a Sunday morning in May, they would have seen four people sheltering from the rain at a bus stop, introducing themselves having already ridden together for several hours, eating, squeezing the water out of their gloves and weeing without bothering to find a bush to hide behind (not necessarily in that order).

Still weather, Spurn Head 400 km

I rode the first part alone, feeling as the rest of us did like a piece of fly paper as we ploughed through the clouds of greenfly.  I’d sort of joined Eddie on the skirting of Hull, but we weren’t quite riding together as such, mostly because I don’t know how to technically, but also because I’m socially incompetent (sometimes that is an overwhelming anxiety but at the moment it’s just uncomfortable).  He was a nice guy and I was touched that he remembered me from my aborted 600 km last year – I recognised him but couldn’t have placed him, but he’d seen me having a minor meltdown and migraine under a tree in Pocklington; I remember someone waving at me and I just shook my head.  We ate together at Spurn Head but didn’t really chat, and I thought he’d already left but when I went to go he was still there, wrestling with leg warmers.

Spurn Head Spurn Head visitors centre

Mike was also preparing to leave and had parked his bike next to mine, and seemed keen to join us so we made a little trio without really trying to.  We didn’t ride that close together and I think I went out a bit too far in front sometimes, but I was trying to stay with them but also go at my pace. They both had GPS although Mike’s only seemed to be useful for telling him when he’d sailed past a junction that Eddie and I had turned at (and not knowing someone’s name makes it harder to call after them); however I have my suspicions that this may have been if not operator-error then at least operator-can’t-be-arsed-to-pay-attention-when-they-can-just-follow-someone-else.

We stopped way too long at Leven petrol station, I was about ready to go when Mike Wiggly appeared; other Mike had been riding with him further back and decided we should wait and take him with us.  They phoned wives and girlfriends to check in and report on progress.  I didn’t.  Mike W clumsily commented on my rainbow sew-on patch and I clumsily replied.  I asked for two carrier bags with my smoothie/flapjack/eccles cake purchase, and they stayed on until I got back home.

Second socks

Timing was good, better than last time no doubt due to the kind wind.  I remember it being pitch black on arrival at McDonalds then, whereas today there was still some light in the sky.  There was also water falling from it, which had been light enough that I hadn’t bothered with the waterproof but after this it would be needed for warmth too, plus that rain was setting in more permanently.  Mike W decided to stay for another coffee so the remaining three of us reluctantly made a start on this long dark leg. Negotiating Goole we picked up Carl, who had been ahead, but lost confidence in his navigation, and turned back.  It was good riding with others in the dark, the extra lights are helpful (although Mike’s strobe on the front was bit too disco for me).  I liked the flat Kings Causeway section although I think some of the others found it mind-numbing. This ride has an almost constant stream of routesheet instructions, there are hardly any long uninterrupted stretches.  Apart from a couple of junction confirmations with Eddie’s GPS, and one that I missed, I pretty much took the front and did the navigating.  It reminded me a bit of LEL, and the night I rode silently with a group from all over the world, weaving across the road as they either nodded off, forgot which side to ride on, or possibly both.

Mike came off going over a railway line in Thorne which crossed the road at a stupid angle, so we all stoped and Mike W happened to catch us at the same time. He seemed ok but we made him stand still for a little while to make sure he wasn’t going to keel over. A car actually came by just behind us, as he was still lying on the road, and didn’t stop.  Around here I started to wonder how safe this pastime of ours is…it was cold, wet, and dark.  We were in a village and I dare say could have woken up a household if needed, but there was no sign of (awake) life and no shelter.  I thought of the riders doing the Old 240 and where would they be at this time of night?  I don’t know if I could do that ride, I wouldn’t feel safe.

Mike W shot off and the rest of us wound our way on, via that bus shelter in Moss.  I’d stopped there last year too.  I thought we’d been doing a reasonable 20 kph average on the flat but soon the hills started and we slowed right down. Unusually for me I felt I could have gone faster, and found myself slowing to let the others catch up.  But I was glad of their company, not being scared of the shadows this time.

Eventually Woolley Edge services appeared.  By accident rather than design we arrived at 3.50 am which was exactly on my approximate schedule, although again we stayed longer that I’d have liked.  But now there was only 35 km to go, and the dawn to look forward to.  Mike was nodding off but the rest of us seemed ok.  We chatted about bikes and riding.  It was Carl’s first 400 km.  He said my navigation was excellent which I really appreciated.  He and Eddie exchanged numbers on the basis of a potential bar-end shifter sale.

Emley Moor

By the time we set off the sky was already lightening, and a rather nice morning was underway.  Mike and Carl both knew their way round a slightly longer but flatter route via Brighouse, so Eddie and I followed them, Carl and I seeming similarly paced and the other two a little behind (a sort of taking-a-leak time delay which was convenient). I didn’t think we’d manage, but we got back just before 7 am.  There had been a time when I thought 24 hours was possible, but the slow night leg and longer stops prevented that. But it was surprisingly nice to ride with others for once.

Spurn Head route map

410 km, 25.5 hours

The Laminator ate my Routesheet: Beyond the Dales We Know 300 km helper’s ride

21/04/18

 

I’d left myself some things to keep me occupied the evening before the ride (or you could consider that I’d left somethings until the last minute), so it was that I was laminating the route sheets. The first one got stuck inside.  I could have gone back in to work, printed it out again and used the work laminator but the thought of going back there again, especially on a Friday evening, was too much. Fortunately I had (a) a spare paper copy (although half the size so reading it might be challenging) and (b) a bar bag with waterproof map case. When it had cooled down I took the bloody thing apart and retrieved the unusably-crumpled sheet, but I didn’t want to risk the others through it at this point.   So all was well apart from the fact that I’d have extra, unattractive, luggage, and the final stage which would be ridden in the dark would rely on rather small font. I took maps as a back-up anyway but marked on this final stage in case.

Laminator

I rode this last year and this time Dean had asked if I would stamp cards at the Markington checkpoint, so this was ridden as a helper’s ride; effectively a perm in the fortnight before the event. To aid logistics I opted to start and finish at Ilkley, which is the closet point to Leeds. My aim was to get back in time for the last train home (I did NOT want to be tackling the Cow and Calf/Otley Chevin/Pool Bank in the dark with 300 km in my legs to get home). Some planning based on 20 kph riding and realistic but not too generous stops meant that I’d have to leave home at 4 am. I re-wrote the route sheets to make home – Ilkley part of the ride, and re-set the distance to zero at the start of each stage, which I’d found beneficial on LEL.

morning
This is what audacious looks like

I slept badly and was only dozing when the alarm went off at 3.30 am.  My clothes were ready but I still needed to make the final decisions on outer wear, and after feeling the temperature outside opted for winter gloves and shoes.  The last couple of days had been a ‘heatwave’ (for April) but with the clear sky the night had been cold. A first outing for the LEL jersey (an attempt to humble/ridicule myself into continuing when the going gets tough) and I was happy to see that it fits better than it did when I got it before the end of last year. Jumper and short-sleeve high vis/windproof gilet on top and leg warmers I though I’d be fine, with enough bits to take off to be flexible. The forecast was for warm sun with thunder and rain by the evening. So a waterproof and rain gloves went in too.  In fact I took four pairs of gloves with me (this is what happens when you take excessive luggage – more than LEL or BGB) – you fill it up. In the event the only pair I didn’t use were the wet ones.

It was chilly heading down to Ilkley, as it’s mostly downhill so not much opportunity to warm up. Being audax-o’clock I took the A roads which were fairly deserted.  There were a few cars and I did see one other cyclist.  The petrol station control in Ilkley isn’t 24 hours and its external cash machine wasn’t working, so I continued on the town centre for a cash machine and receipt. I was impressed that it read 5.01 am which made me look very organised. I had done a good check on the map of the centre and how to get back on route because getting lost so early on would make me excessively grumpy.

There was already a dull green glow in the east, and soon I didn’t need my head torch to read the routesheet, which was a good job as the batteries were struggling. After some lanes out of Ilkley (featuring suicidal bunnies) the route follows the Wharfe up the valley past Bolton Abbey.  This is a nice overalll climb but not much silly steepness. Despite climbing I was colder now, and there were a few patches of frost on the roadside leaves in the hollows.

Wharfedale Wharfedale

The sun was catching the hills to my left, and eventually it came down to meet the road and I bathed in its warmth. Not exactly; at this hour it was a psychological heating rather than anything else. I could have put my waterproof on for extra warmth but I was nearly warm enough and knew it would improve soon.  The valley was gorgeous, with the dawn light and dewy fields. At the other side of the river I saw the campsite and pub at Craven Arms which we passed recently while Springing into the Dales, and eventually joined that route at Burnsall Bridge.

Then it’s in the general direction of Grassington, then Kettlewell, which aren’t quite visited (Beyond the Dales You Know, see), branching off for Arncliff and Littondale.  The first control is the Queens in Litton, definitely not open at 7 am, so photos taken for proof of passage.

Queens Arms in Littondale Queens Arms in Littondale

This side of the valley was in the shade so I kept going a bit further, to the turnoff at Halton Gill, before I stopped for my breakfast of supermarket sandwich brought with me. The extra luggage was actually quite useful throughout the day as essentially a larder, doing the ride from an alternative start buggered up some of the carefully selected controls as far as food went. This well-prepared audaxer returned home with more food that he took…

Halton Gill

I’d remembered the climb out of here as being a bastard, and it does have some steep sections (featuring an up-hill cattlegrid which is tough, they are much easier to speedily freewheel over), but the steep sections are short and the descent to Stainforth is long. Pen-y-Ghent Gill carves a lovely deep gorge down to the left, as the pass travels between Fountains Fell and Pen-y-Ghent.

Littondale Halton Gill - Stainforth

Then it’s the main road up through Horton-in-Ribblesdale to Ribblehead, again it looked like there was a three peaks event on, with lots of cars and a gazebo in the field in Horton.  I wasn’t expecting the burger van at the Ribblehead junction to be open at my target time of 9 am and was pondering my stop strategy, but it was there so I pulled in. However although it was there, the side open and the radio on, the proprietor was absent; according to a couple having their own brew in the car/van parked next door she had taken her dog for a quick walk before opening (it was about 8.50 am). Although I’d really fancied a coffee I didn’t want to hang around so just had one of my flapjacks and got going. It was beautifully sunny and clear, I’d already stopped to take my jumper off (and remove a fly from my eye, multitasking stops are always good) and I was feeling like I was going well.

After a gentle climb the cars became sparse again and the turnoff for Dentdale appeared. This is a great descent which provides views from above the viaduct and later below, the former would have been a nice picture but it’s not an easy place to stop.

Dent viaduct

I remembered that I’d been particularly miserable here last time and was feeling quite the opposite.  You barely have to pedal for a long time. It was on the approach to Dent that I suddenly remembered it has cobbles, and changed down several gears and braced myself. My bike and wheels are quite chunky, and I wonder how slimmer models manage over this. Dean had helpfully noted that there are toilets and an outside tap here, the latter especially useful as I’d had no options for refills until now.

On through Sedburgh, one of the bigger towns visited, but feeling no need to stop I began the climb up Howgill Lane.  This was less painful than I remembered too, I don’t know if this is because last time was further through the ride, or I was more cheery this time, or just that I’d done it before so I could do it again.  A couple of more speedy riders came passed me along here, I was quite happy to be overtaken and probably still retaining some smugness that I’d got all the way here from Leeds and it was only 10 am.

“Everywhere that air of conspiracy which generates amongst people who have been up since dawn – of superiority almost, derived from the common experience of having seen the night disappear and the morning come” The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, John le Carré.

The descent alongside the Howgills was even more enjoyable than last time in the crisp sun.  I almost waved at a train speeding south along the west coast main line such was my delight (but apparently I gave up waving at trains when entering adulthood).

Howgill Lane Howgills and the River Lune

I feel sorry for Tebay, I suppose its position is not unlike Moffat in that a motorway has removed much of its passing trade, but Moffat retains the A701 route and has gone upmarket since I was young, but Tebay just looks tired. I was pleased to see some non-lorry traffic at the services, including a hen party. I had a decent length stop here, it was warm now so arm and leg warmers off and sun cream on, and a reapplication of Conotrane while I had suitable facilities.

At Tebay services
Ever glamorous

I’d remembered the first bit of the next section, where the route heads up and through unfenced moorland. There was a particularly magic moment when I crossed a cattle grid and as soon as the noise of it ceased so did the roadside trees and fences and it was suddenly open and quiet. Stopping to take one of many photos along here I was caught by another cyclist who stopped to ask where I was going.  He had heard of Audax and had a suspiciously tatty Carradice.

Nameless moors near Great Asby Scar

Through Great Musgrave, recalled after the Sherlock Holmes story ‘The Musgrave Ritual’; I checked last time and in the story they are in Surrey, never mind.  After Brough came the climb to Middleton-in-Teesdale which I hadn’t remembered until I saw the junction.  It’s lovely, but manages to combine a steep up-up-up climb with an up-down-up descent, so there is not much time to relax.  Middleton soon arrived and I’d already planned a visit to the Co-op, remembering that I would need sustinence for the next control(s) too.  Here was my mistake. I thought I’d learned my lesson on overeating, but it turns out that a Mars Bar ice cream AND a hot cheese and onion pasty (in that order naturally) still counts as too much.  To Staindrop was ok, just feeling a little stuffed. I stopped to take a photo of the church as time evidence, but also noted that although I didn’t know the info control question here I knew its location and took an educated guess that it would be ‘name of fish and chip shop’ [Chip in Dale; it was].  Either way I’m sure my passage through would be suitably evidenced.

St Mary the Virgin, Staindrop

The route was flatter now but I started to feel sick and had a headwind which did nothing for comfort or morale. The nausea was fairly convincing and I pondered my best options to pack – not far to Northallerton and still plenty of time to get a train back to Leeds.  But I really wanted to finish this; remember you are wearing your LEL jersey, keep going and see how it goes.

I felt rather sorry for Dean around here because the roads and signs must be changing almost constantly and keeping the routesheet up to date must have been a nightmare. I got through without any wrong turnings so he must have done a good job. I had also studied the route quite carefully beforehand, because I got lost near the end last time and didn’t want to repeat the exercise. So I had a pretty good idea that I was going in the right general direction all the time.  The A6055 follows the A(M)1, and may be able to become the new B7076 in terms of ubiquitousness and boredom, but it has a damn-site better (new) road surface. I stopped on one of the bridges over the motorway and had my carton of chocolate ‘milk’ (soya) which I know my stomach likes, and a little feeling-sorry-for-myself break. Heading off again I felt a little better and thought I’d make a decision on packing when I got to the road which could lead to Northallerton. I don’t think that I ever actually made a decision, but ended up turning off anyway at Ainderby Steeple for Newby Wiske (they do like their double-barrels around here). Shortly after I met some people at the roadside wrestling with a bike and with a jauntily-parked car; my initial though was ‘accident’ but when I asked if all was ok one of them said they had a problem with the chain, so I stopped to investigate. It was a lad with his bike and his parents or friends who had come out to rescue him in their car. The chain was not only off the big ring but also over the crank and pedal and one of the assistants was trying to puzzle out how it went back on. I managed to sort it and the rider seemed keen to cycle home, so we suggested he do so in a middleing gear and not try changing it to be on the safe side. It didn’t take long and was a sufficient distraction (probably because I had successfully managed to help) that it gave my brain a bit of a kick and so while my stomach didn’t feel right for the rest of the ride my head at least did.

The control at Newby Wiske was a bit weird because even though I knew it wasn’t the end of MY ride I knew it was the end of THE ride. I stopped for another selfie by the village sign and had half a sandwich, which went down ok.

Newly Wiske

It was flat and not far to Boroughbridge, where I thought the traditional remedy of coke and salt and vinegar crisps might be a good idea. They were, although the Spar receipt was useless not having a location on it. The cash machine just over the bridge earlier would be a better option. I took yet another selfie when I turned off on the distinctive road ‘St Helena’ which I thought would suffice.  Arm warmers, gilet and lights went on here.

Boroughbridge

It it was only 15 km to Markington, where I would be stamping cards next weekend.  I actually had no recollection of this on last years ride, and still didn’t recognise it when I got there. I took another photo, noted the location of the campsite where I plan to stay on Friday night, switched on my headtorch (having put the new batteries in I need at Tebay) and pressed on.

Markington

On leaving I was half an hour ahead of my schedule and had that ‘I’m actually going to do it’ moment. I had two things in mind, completing within time (definitely possible as the minimum speed is low) and getting my train home, which was more debatable but held considerable mental weight. I kept telling myself that validation was the more important thing and that it was hardly the end of the world if I had to get a taxi home from Ilkley, or worse, summon the courage to ride.

I’d forgotten in my time calculations the slowing which happens in the dark; I find descents challenging and never make it to the big ring. I do think my light could go a few degrees upwards which would help. But still, this last bit had some hills and I couldn’t make up any time on the descents. I was also now using my tiny-font routesheet with map back-up, and although the routesheet was ok I did have to stop to read it at each instruction, the road vibrations being too much for clarity. The very straight but horribly-surfaced road by Fewston barracks was at least not too bad at this time of day as it was quiet, and I was able to ride in the middle of the road to avoid the worst of the potholes. The steep hill after this, climbing after the reservoirs, I hadn’t remembered and could have done without. Although Ilkley isn’t a bad start, Newby is better because you get a flat start and a flat finish.

I could see the lights of various towns in the valley below but was getting worried about my slowness and getting back for the train so was distracted and not able to enjoy the views. I blame this on my bike computer; I had been looking at the distance which had been 17.1 km and seemed very slow to get to 17.2, etc; I thought this was me looking at it too often but after a while realised it had changed itself to read average speed rather than distance. So that meant my average speed for this leg was 17 kph….not good for getting back in time. I didn’t let myself look at my watch because there was nothing I could do about it.

Slowly the route asymptotically approached the lit A road to Ilkley and eventually met the bridge over to the control petrol station.  In the interests of knowing where I was and not faffing I decided to return to the town centre for a receipt and the station; risking a look at my watch it was 10:45 pm, so I bombed it along the road (amazed that I still had the energy and legs) and got back to my starting cash machine. Just under 18 hours and I was very happy, although thought that ‘contingency’ should be a future consideration.  The last train to Leeds was everything I dreamed of, full of drunk people, although to be fair they left me along. A large group of under-20s blokes with a few women, they were very noisy.  The toilet, which unfortunately I was next to, was marked ‘out of order’ but several of them were clearly desperate. After attempts to pee out of the train doors at a station or on the platform (foiled because it didn’t stop for long enough) they forced the door open, at which point it was visited by about 10 of them followed by one for vomiting purposes. I can only hope the defect wasn’t the flush.

The forecast thunder kept its distance, it started to rain as the train pulled out of Ilkley and had apparently just stopped when I got back to Leeds.  Couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried.

The final ride ride home was the usually dodging of revellers through the town centre, uncomfortable in backside (mostly) and legs. But Carr Manor Road seemed tame in comparison to some of today’s hills. I got back and had a shower to remove the sun cream-adhered dirt that I didn’t really want in my bed, and had a cup of tea to try and rehydrate, even did a few back stretches, so wasn’t in bed until 2 am. 22.5 hours, and only on checking the following day have I realised I did 200 miles, which is rather satisfying. I’m very glad that I got through the rough patch.  At the time of writing (the next day) I feel like I’ve been through the mill, arm and chest muscles hurt as well as knees and thighs. It’s real step up from 200 km.

Beyond the Dales route

 

333 km (207 miles), 17 hrs 45 mins, 3,725 m climbed

The event
27-29/04/18

The ride itself…cycled up to Markington in the rain, which stopped on arrival.  Tent up and finally in the pub (The Yorkshire Hussar) by 9 pm, in my wet clothes to just about dry off.  Busy and a bit posh but there was a little back room with a chap watching football and another sitting at the bar, so I joined them and we ignored each other for a couple of hours.  Very nice Timothy Taylor’s Boltmaker accompanied the reading of John Buchan’s Huntingtower on my phone, as I had disappointingly failed to fit a book in my panniers.

Beer in the Yorkshire Hussar

Next morning after coffee and porridge I was in position at around 7 am for the first rider at 7.20 am.  All in good spirits if a little cold, which it certainly was.  The wisdom of a situation next to the defibrillator was noted.  The final rider came through just after 8 am, all still close together as only 42 km into the ride.  It was good to put names to some now-familiar faces from other events.

Camping stove Bike and control at Markington

After a second breakfast I packed up, failed to warm up, and started off along the route in reverse to Newby Wiske.  It took a long time before I had warmed up enough to take a layer off.

Milestone

Arrived at HQ around 12 pm to an alien invasion, and to find the hosts having the slight problem of no electricity to the building.  They soon fixed it and I went off in search of beer supplies for later.  Then it was a case of waiting for riders returning, ringing cow bells at them and drinking beer.  Dean’s photos here: https://www.flickr.com/photos/30024450@N04/sets/72157666457595807

Tents

100 km or so over the weekend

Spring into the Dales 100 km

08/04/18

I last did this three years ago shortly after moving to Leeds, then 2016 was a year of surgery and no rides, and last year I ended up on the shorter Leap into the Aire after a travel-to-the-start cock-up.  The train from Leeds arrives in Mytholmroyd 6 minutes after the start, so I was always going to be ‘behind’.  I was happy that the ride up out of Hebden Bridge and down to Oxenhope was easier than on the first occasion.  Mist was lifting out of the Worth Valley ahead and the views were great.

Worth Valley from Cock Hill

The rest of the hills, of which the ride is entirely consisted, were hard going.  I got to the checkpoint at Earby around the same time as a few others, but got going again as quickly as I could, pausing only to down a banana.  The first control proper was at Gargrave and again I went into the Dalesman Cafe and wondered why there were so few of us in there, although this time my beans on toast were quite slow coming and rather low on the beans, so I’m not sure I’ll visit again.  By the time I left the controllers were also leaving and there was no sign of anyone else on the ride, so I started to worry that I’d be brining up the rear for the rest of the day.  Once off again I took a right turn prematurely but happily realised very soon and only added an extra km.  Some nice lanes around here.

Tea at the Dalesman Cafe Yorkshire lane

I saw a few other riders but wasn’t sure if they were actually doing this ride or just happened to be going the same way.  I lost a couple of them near Bolton Abbey where we crossed the Wharfe so maybe the latter.

Bike at bridge over the River Wharfe

Blimey that bar bag is fugly.  Arriving at the control in Keighley I was happy to find quite a few others and felt like I was on a calendar event after all.  Rossi’s cafe is great.  The person serving took a bit of convincing that yes I did want a large coffee; it was a small bathtub but I had found the ride hard going and it was just what I needed.  With that and a chocolate-topped flapjack I was ready for the final 20 km back over Cock Hill.  I actually enjoyed this climb both ways, it’s long but doable, in contrast with some of the steeper hills on this ride which in the latter stages had me asking “what the actual fuck?” when I saw the walls of tarmac coming nearer.  I did make it up them all though.  It’s not quite the hilliest ride I’ve done (the Season of Mists is a 2.5 AAA and got me a gold badge), but it is fairly early in the year, and they are just unrelenting.  Thus my top-of-cock selfie is no reflection on Calerdale, which I was quite happy to be welcomed to.

Top of Cock Hill Top of Cock Hill, looking south-ish

Spring into the Dales 2018 route

117 km, average 18 kph (oh dear), riding time 6:29, total time 7:51, 2.25 AAA