There are many accounts of the 2025 edition of London Edinburgh London, to the extent that I may not have much to add. It became clear that there was no way I could attempt to ride it, and when Peter asked if I would volunteer again I found it hard to say no. After previous editions at Barnard Castle we ‘moved house’ to Richmond, in particular their school. Quite a contrast, with this being a modern airy building.
As usual with team Davis everything was very well organised. I arrived at North Allerton train station and met up with a few other volunteers including a driver who took us to Richmond. On arrival we were shown around the place, pitched tents or campbeds as appropriate (I was in a tent, I’d rather have my own space) and worked out things like how to turn the lights on (in a secondary school hall the light switches are away from fiddling hands). This was literally the calm before the storm.
We knew the forecast was for very strong winds. One of the other volunteers was camping in the same ‘bay’ as me, where we were sheltered by a single storey building on three sides. His tent was half blown away. Conditions up on the pennines, crossing over Yad Moss, must have been awful.
And so it was that Danial climbed half way up the staircase which ran through the dining hall we were in, and announced that the event was suspended. No one could leave – well, we weren’t locking the doors and taking prisoners, but if they did they would be disqualified. However riders kept arriving. So we ended up bursting at the seems, trying to accommodate and feed them all. Without a dishwasher.
Someone did a rough calculation on the value of all the cycles that were just lying around…scary stuff
Eventually it was announced that riders could return on the south-bound route from wherever they were when they stopped. Many were keen to have their brevet cards stamped in the return box, so we set up a desk and volunteer with the stamp, and some ‘pens’ made up of the metal barriers to allow a slow release of cyclists into what had become a bright, dry day.
Then began the clean-up operation, a perfect illustration of many hands making light work. Bryn took charge for this, I think he’s being groomed to run a future control. And very good he would be at it.
Having failed to get this far when I first visited the Outer Hebrides I came back. This time on foot as I thought getting here by bike would be a nightmare if not impossible, although I now think the Inverness – Ullapool bus takes them, although it may be a bit pot luck.
York stationInverness campsiteI think I take the same photos on every ferry crossing
I arrived on a Sunday so most things were closed, the Stornoway Tesco being the exception. I walked a non-trivial distance in wind and rain to a campsite marked on the map which turned out not to exist, so I wild camped on the dunes and made use of the unlocked facilities at the sports ground opposite. In retrospect I should have just set up camp in their covered stand. Thank you Coll sports club.
Super-yacht out in the distanceTraigh Chuil
Next day was back to Stornoway to catch a bus (well, two) down to Leverburgh at the south end of Harris. The weather was awful but there’s a little brewery/taproom/café so I spent a pleasant souple of hours there, before taking the bus a little way back up to road so I could visit the visitors centre at Northton.
Leverburgh to Berneray Ferry
Waiting for the next bus north and wondering around I saw what I think was a Hen Harrier catch an oystercatcher. Some other oystercatchers gave pursuit but I doubt they were successful. Next stop was Horgabost campsite, where the weather produced some amazing light and clouds.
Traigh na CleabhaigHorgabost campsiteSound of Taransay
The next day I took the bus north, indeed as far north as possible. The sun came out and I managed a dip in the sea at Port of Ness.
Harris from the busStornoway pierPort of Ness
There’s a campsite at Eoropie, but they don’t have any facilities. I found one of the owners and he explained that there was a sports centre not too far away and he’d leave a bike out for me so I could cycle over and use their facilities if I wanted. Unfortunately things didn’t line up with my functions, so the trowel was deployed. The place was completely mad, with weird stuff everywhere. I walked over to Dun Eistean (although the bridge was closed so not possible to get over) before and the spending the evening in strange company, listening to corncrakes and watching a short eared owl.
Dun EisteanCroftsThe map shows the crofts layout clearlyThis place was…odd
Next day it was a walk up to the Butt of Lewis lighthouse, before taking the bus south.
Lewis bus stops – shelter whatever angle the wind is coming from
I got off at the Barvas turn off and walked towards Shawbost. A brief stop at a restored Shieling before visiting the Blackhouse museum near Arnol.
Accommodation in the summer while looking after the sheepRestored BlackhousePeat storePlenty of the remains of old blackhouses to be seen
A couple of brief stops at things I’d seen marked on the map; a Broch in Loch an Duna, and a whale bone (marked as ‘arch’). In 1920 a whale’s corpse was washed up with a harpoon in its head.
Broch
Got to the campsite at Shawbost which was fairly busy.
Now I was heading back towards Stornoway. The weather was bad and the bus times didn’t allow me to stop off at Callanish with anything approaching sensible timings. This was something of a bugger. The visitors centre wasn’t open, so if I stopped I would have been stuck there for hours with no shelter from the rain, so reluctantly stayed on the bus to Stornoway. It was times like this where a bike would have been so useful, and I did miss having it. The bus station did left luggage for a few £ so I was able to leave my heavy stuff there and visit the Lews Castle and Museum nan Eilean. They have a few Lewis chess pieces, and there was an exhibition about those who emigrated to the Americas – very sobering to see this from the point of view of these people and something a certain DJT seems to need reminding of.
There’s campsite just outside Stornoway at Laxdale (should have stayed there the first night!) which was again fairly busy but nice with good facilities.
Ferry back to Ullapool where I camped, again the weather was a bit unfriendly. Seems like a nice town and good to see the ferries coming and going in Loch Broom.
Finally the bus to Inverness and trains back to Leeds.
Many of these photos were taken by Fiona, and the order of presentation and narration is somewhat random.
One of my sisters is receiving treatment for breast cancer in Cheltenham; I went to an appointment with her and spotted this fundraiser. I managed to persuade my brother and other sister to enter. They had better palmarès than I did; Rory and his friend walked the 70 mile boundary of a parish, and Fiona has run the Oxford half marathon the last few years.
There were hills and wolds:
Cam Long Down
Most of the route was on excellent footpaths:
We (well, not Rory) were born in Gloucester, but it’s a long time since we moved away and most of the route was unfamiliar. This turned out to be the first of many heatwaves in the UK this summer, which was a real challenge. I’m used to Audax-type events so something more supported was a little different, although there was a lot of the same spirit.
We got to Painswick, which was the quarter point, pretty well. Naomi and Claire came to meet us there:
The next leg, to Coaley Peak was ok, but we were slowing. On to Wotton was a real trial, we were struggling with nausea and dizziness. The tip from the organisers was to drink water at every km marker, but given the heat we were most likely still dehydrated. We couldn’t take on any food at Wotton and after much deliberation we decided that going back out in the cold and dark was not a good idea, and retired. That turned out to be a whole other adventure, with a coach driven by someone who had clearly never seen it before and couldn’t get above 2nd gear. Finally we got back to the Cirencester start where rescuer Chris had been waiting for quite some time to drive us back to Oxford.
Properly fucked by this point
We managed to raise an amazing £3k, but were disappointed that we didn’t complete the full 100 km. Next year we will do the second half of the event (which should be easier than the first).
If you haven’t tried it, Moffat Toffee is a swollen tetrahedral boiled sweet, which manages to be simultaneously caramel and sherbert. As far as I know, because I have never seen it anywhere else, it is only available in the Moffat Toffee shop. But it’s also a 200 km audax.
The 10th anniversary ride was my first 200 km; my first audax points; the ride I became a randonneur. It had personal significance too, as I had grown up in this area but was never a ‘sporty’ person who would do something like this. I knew the places and the roads, but from the back seat of a car.
At the start of 2025 I was momentarily gripped by inspiration, and entered a few rides that I thought I could build up to. In the middle of this careful planning the 20th anniversary Moffat Toffee ride popped up, and I thought it would just about fit in between the others. Well, unsurprisingly my optimistic plans fell apart after a lack of preparation (and a good dose of life happening as well) so I scrapped most of the plans but held on to this one ride. Two weeks after it I would be facing a 24 hour (at least) run/walk so I thought it would be good training, if only in being knackered. And there’s the other thing; the bike. Well; trike. The plan of attack involved a second hand, and I suspect very much Trigger’s Broom, ICE Sprint trike. So far I had only done a couple of 50 km rides on it. I knew I was slow, so went into it with the aim of finishing, however long it took. The fact that Lucy had opted for a postal finish (or e-brevet) was ideal, and meant I didn’t have to worry about someone waiting up for me.
I hired a car and drove to a campsite in Melrose. The trike folds to fit (just) in the back of a small/medium car with the back seats down. There is no way you could get one of these buggers on a train.
MelroseI didn’t bother with any cooking kit…
Because I had the car, I drove to the start rather than cycling, knowing that I would be glad of it later. I found a public car park just around the corner from the depart, got everything together and made my way to Galashiels McDonalds. A small field (around 25) set out, and the only time I saw any of the others was when they were on the return journey and I was still heading out.
This ride was an out and back, to Wanlockhead (Scotland’s highest village, centre of gold panning, and the destination of local school trips). I don’t usually like retracing my steps but seeing the route from the opposite direction is almost the same as seeing from new. I hadn’t gone too far before realising I’d left my water in the back of the car. First stop was St Mary’s Loch cafe to buy a couple of bottles.
Water everywhere apart from with me in bottles
It was wet. No avoiding that. For the most part an ongoing light drizzle, but in Moffat for the first time it properly chucked it down. The usual control cafe, the Rumblin’ Tum, wasn’t taking any more customers as they were very busy and understaffed, so I went a few doors up the high street to the next one. They were strangely quiet – possibly because they are cash only. I thought about turning around here and heading back to Galashiels, but there was a little demon on my shoulder telling me I was supposed to be being audacious, which made me keep going.
The wonderfully named Green Hill Stairs is a road between the Devil’s Beeftub and the M74. I had expected this to be an awful climb but actually it was fine both ways, just a long slow slog. Once past the bit of NCN 7 on the old service road the route took the B7040 to Leadhills and Wanlockhead. I think I’d only come here from the west road before so this was new. Of particular interest was what looked like a little church by Shortcleuch Water – I’ll have to pay another visit to find out. The cafe in Wanlockhead was a bit dispiriting as it is down at the bottom of a steep hill. The was an ultra run on at the same time, so I saw lots of bedraggled people heading in to the outdoor centre. As I was due to take part in something similar in the Cotswolds a week later this did not fill me with optimism.
M74 from Green Hill StairsA708
The return to Moffat was straightforward, and a visit to the Co-op sufficient. By now I had told Lucy that I wouldn’t be back in time; the e-brevet helpfully told me the same! My main memory of the return over the A708 was towards the end when it was getting dark and I had to engage my tyre dynamo. When sorting out my trike I was able to fit a dynamo front light that I already owned, but the cost of a hub dynamo for it was eye-wateringly expensive (understandable, it’s a niche bit of kit) so I thought I’d try a relatively cheap wheel version. It worked; my light lit up. It also possessed the handy feature of letting me know how fast I was going by the noise it made. At least you only need to engage it when the light is required, in contrast to a hub which is ‘always on’.
Earlier I had enjoyed seeing martins, swallows and swifts, but now the fast flittering things were bats. What looked like a badger family crossed the road in front of me. Happily McDonads was still open when I finally got back to Galashiels. I was very glad I had the car here, plus a head torch to load the trike. As well as leaving my water in the car, I had also forgotten to bring any shower gel. I’ve stayed in enough campsites to hope there would be a random bottle that someone had left behind, but the Melrose Gibson site facilities are very clean and tidy so there was nothing lying around. Wearing only my cycling shorts I used the dispenser by the handwash sinks to coat myself in soap, and then rinsed it off, which was surprisingly effective.
Next morning I found a nice place open for breakfast in Melrose, then drove home via my parents south of Moffat who provided yet more sustenance. Despite it raining for a good part of the day I managed to catch some sun on my legs.
After finishing my first Moffat Toffee 200 km I felt that I could justify the purchase of an Audax UK jersey; it was a significant achievement for me. Ten years later I’m happy to be audacious enough to try it on a recumbent trike, even if I finish out of time. For me, audax is about finding, and stretching, your limits. Other people have different limits, and that’s fine.
“Would you be able to help out on the 22nd?” “Sure” “You’d have time to ride the 50 km first.” “Ok, sign me up!”
And so after lasts year’s epic 100 km a more sedate ride this year, followed by a shift in the kitchen.
As the audaxer comes to expect (perhaps hope), there was a nice variety of cycles on this ride, including a two-wheeled Lightning recumbent, a hand cycle, at least one mountain bike, a couple of Sonders, and even my own current commuter, the Pompino – the first Audax not on my Hewitt. Not the only flat bar in attendance.
We were very lucky with the weather; mild, dry, a bit of sun. As I write this the following day the rain is lashing against my windows. The route is straightforward along quiet roads, fairly flat (surely not, Dean?) to the extent that I was feeling a bit under-geared, until two step climbs crossing the river Leven. I met who I now know to be Nick, when he had stopped to check the info control location.
First Audax Library I have found!
The halfway-ish control was a cafe at HMP Kirklevington Grange, who very efficiently served us as we descended en masse. Huge pieces of cake, and my choice, big cheese scones. A great opportunity for learning skills and gaining experience to help find employment after imprisonment.
There was a bit of a headwind on the return journey, but no more sudden climbs. On arrival at the Northallerton Scout & Guide Hut there was the usual splendid spread of both mugs and food. After a feed and a shower I joined Kat and Paul in the kitchen to feed the finishers on the 100 and 200 km rides that were also running. Kat had everything well organised, I mostly spent time stirring pans to try and keep things warm and ready but not burnt (and apparently earned the honour of being the first person to prevent the veggie chilli sticking to the bottom of the pan). Paul had left it too late to enter a ride and decided to offer his services instead, which was great. I think they were only waiting for one rider to finish when I left, although unfortunately (well, for them) I left too early to brandish the mop.
That’s the weirdest alt text I’ve ever written
55 km, 218 m climbed, average speed 18.5 kph, total time 3 hours 38 mins
A fine forecast so possibly the last packrafting day of the year for this fair-weather paddler. Low water levels so quite a few rock gardens to get stuck in and/or walk through. Very quiet with no sign of anyone else. Lots of yellow wagtails, several kingfishers, a dipper, a noisy buzzard, and even a bat skimming the river for flies in the middle of the day.
Start at Appleby – over the bridge and through the parkSand martin burrows, but no sign of the birds now
A stepping stone crossing at Colby Laithes was quite a challenge to get over (not sure I’d like to walk the crossing either) and could be a hazard in high water.
Stepping stones
Progress was slower than I had hoped, after starting off from Appleby around 12 pm I finally reached Bolton Bridge at 2.30 pm and had a long overdue lunch on a patch of stones under the bridge.
Bolton Bridge
On reaching a bridleway ford near Kirkby Thorne I thought I had better get out and walk back to Appleby rather than press on for Langwathby which was still some distance off. I don’t yet have much of a feel for speed on the packraft (well, maybe I have a better idea now). A tractor crossed the ford but then it was deserted again and I was able to get changed without causing any passers-by offence.
There is a straight bridleway along an old Roman road to Appleby, however to get to it avoiding the A66 involved a detour via Long Marton.
I spotted a footpath along a stream which looked nice and would cut off a corner following the road. Alas on crossing a stile I put my foot in a hole and went over on my ankle. My rucksack provided a soft landing, but I could tell I had done some mischief straight away. I struggled over a couple more stiles to the road, and made a walking stick out of half of the packraft paddle, and very slowly limped to where the road met the A6. My ankle had swelled up immediately and was very challenging to walk on. Managed to get a taxi back to Appleby and even made the train I was originally looking at.
A visit to A&E the next day showed it was not broken, but I left with a foam boot and crutches, putting an end to any further adventures for a little while.
Train from Kirkstall Forge, and got in and out under the (new) Apperley bridge. It was warm and there were people swimming in the river – possibly they knew about the sewage outlet as they were wisely upstream of it.
There was a big bank with sand martins coming and going, a nice quiet stretch where I stopped and watched kingfishers flitting up and down the river, and even saw one make a catch next to a strange nice-looking stone outlet, which I haven’t been able to identify on the map.
I have wanted to take a ferry from Ardrossan to Campbeltown and ride up the west coast for several years, but the summer-only service keeps becoming a never service. This was an attempt to go this sort of way anyway, starting at the Mull of Galloway and heading north. I was over-ambitious and it didn’t quite work out as planned, so I spent some time on Arran and Bute instead.
This trip featured midges, rain, an eye that was stuck closed overnight and a fungal cycling short issue.
A glimpse of the Barr Hill from the train
Hillend Campsite, Auchinleck
03/06/24 – train to Auchinleck
Questionable route choice
“In memory of Jean Galloway Hunter Blair, 1890 -1953, whose wish it was that a shelter should be built in this place”
Straiton
Straiton
Carrick Forest
04/06/24 Auchinleck – Glentrool
Morning hail storm in Glentrool
Glenluce
Glenluce
Sandhead
Approaching the Mull of Galloway
Foghorn (no longer in use)
Mull of Galloway lighthouse
Location for filming The Vanishing, based on the Flannan Isle mystery
Isle of Man in the distance
From the Mull
05/06/24 Glentrool – Mull of Galloway
Dirniemow Bridge – felt like I was in The 39 Steps here
Cross Water of Luce and railway line
Near the Ayrshire/Dumfries & Galloway border
06/06/24 Mull of Galloway – BarrhillCuckoo at Dirniemow
Excellent shop and PO in Dailly doing filled rolls
Campsite at Culzean Castle
Aldi packet risotto 5 stars
Looking towards Arran
07/06/24 Barrhill to Culzean Castle
Lumpy bit from Maybole over Brown Carrick Hill
On to NCN route 7 to Troon
Ayr
My old shared flat in Troon, first floor bay window was my room I think
North Bay from Barassie
Troon – Brodick
Brodick
Wet and midgey
Glen Rosa
Glen Rosa campsite
08/06/24 Culzean Castle – Glen Rosa, Arran
Breakfast in Brodick; Troon Ferry on the left
Goatfell rage
Lamlash
Holy Island
Above Kildonan; Pladda and Ailsa Craig
Lost dog, who found me
Blackwaterfoot. Many bus stops had furniture provided.
Is this the UK’s toughest 100 km? It was certainly mine.
This ride isn’t some sort of trick; the route and detailed explanations of the off-road sections were sent to us by organiser Dean, including ‘don’t expect to be able to ride up the incline’. The incline in question is a unpaved, steep track up from Ingleby to the plateau of the North York Moors which was originally a rail track, moving rocks from the quarries up on the moors to the main train line lower down on more sensible terrain. It wasn’t the only bit of rough stuff though; the route also crosses a steep track over Rudland Rigg between Farndale and Bransdale, a forest road around Rievaulx Moor, and a byway over Arden Moor from Hawnby back to civilisation. And we were also warned about the full moon.
The first section was a relatively flat and rural ride to Ingleby, although just to give a taste of things to come we did follow a section of a BOAT which was full of mud and puddles that required some of us to walk around the more unpredictable sections (is this a shallow puddle or will I fall and sink into it?). It also set the weather tone for the day – it was glorious, but difficult. Cold (freezing, literally) but also bright sun which was warm when in it. Combined with steep uphill heat-producing climbs, and steep downhill chill-inducing descents, many layers were needed but they were constantly damp.
Approaching the incline was a forrest track which looked delightful but I felt like I was riding through treacle; I’m still not sure if that was me, the bike, or the imperceptible gradient. The walk up the incline was hard going, and I was even overtaken by another (walking) participant. Once at the top though it is a fantastic ride, around 10 km of fairly flat hard packed track around the top of Farndale to the Lion Inn. I’m not sure of the legality of the few off-road motorbikes that were around, but they passed fairly slowly with plenty of space, so no complaints.
Up…
Looking back down the incline
Bloworth Crossing
Excellent tracks
First off road section
Farndale below
The Lion was pretty busy, but I found a little table next to the bar. I thought I would be delayed waiting for food but they were amazingly efficient, I had hardly sat down before my sandwich appeared. They certainly know what they are doing. This was the last time I saw anyone else on the ride, and to be honest I was pleasantly surprised that I had at least made good enough progress to overlap with them at the halfway (in distance) point.
After a significant descent across Farndale the route once again leaves tarmac to follow a track across Rudland Ridge. This was crazily steep in parts for another BOAT – a quad bike and Landrover came up and I think I would have been unsettled in those.
Farndale
Second off-road section
Once on the top I got to ride a bit, and passed a few walkers. There then followed the descent into Bransdale which Dean had accurately described as ‘the most technical section‘. It wasn’t single track, but it was steep, rough, and eroded so there were muddy sections and big ruts. I had to walk a significant part of it, and have no idea how those on more road type bikes got on.
Once the road was met again near Cockayne progress improved. Here, following the curve around the valley head, a barn owl swooped across the road in front of me to perch just to my left. As I got nearer it moved a few metres ahead, to be repeated several times before the road took me away from its habitat. What a treat. I got to the top of this spur and stopped to put an extra layer on, anticipating the chill of the next descent.
A sharp turn off the road by an interesting stone took me on a wonderful forest track around the north end of Rievaulx Moor. Once again I had to walk up the steeper sections. I disturbed a couple of deer in the trees and was able to see the white rear end of one of them bouncing away into the woods for quite some time.
Forest track around Rievaulx Moor
Tarmac once again met, the next stop and only section of the ride that was familiar was at Hawnby. This control offered a choice of tearoom/shop at the bottom of the hill, or pub at the top. Given my arrival time I assumed the tearoom would be closed (incorrect as it turned out), and I was not about to descend to find out only to have to go back up the hill, so I stopped at the Owl Inn. It’s quite a posh place, even the little dog that came and sat in my seat when I went to the loo was wearing a bowtie, so I felt a little out out of place, sweaty and mud-splattered as I was. The bartender was perfectly welcoming though, and after the ride I learned that they even had a stamp I could have asked for. Orange juice and soda, and salted crisps consumed, I was ready for the final stretch.
The road becomes a BOAT at Arden Hall. I walked up most of this climb. A couple in a car coming the other way (brave move in itself) stopped to ask where I was heading. When I said Northallerton they responded with “that’s a long way”; given that I was 80% done I thought it best not to elaborate. They also warned it would be dark by the time I got there, which had occurred to me.
Once I finally got to the top of the climb I was rewarded with a decent track over the plateaux, solitude, and a full moon rise behind me. Well, we were warned…it was a little eerie but also magical.
Final off-road section, crossing Arden Moor
Our track meets the Cleveland way, as well as a tarmac route off the moors, at a cross roads. A couple were just leaving by car and we managed a mutually beneficial arrangement through a couple of gates. The roads were dark and very quiet now but I kept getting sight of the moon in my peripheral vision and thinking it was car headlights approaching from behind. I was also tiring and had one final stop not that far out of Northallerton to eat the last few Vimto fried eggs (highly recommended if you ever see them) from my stash.
When I finally reached the scout and guide hut, Dean broke it to me that I was about 5 minutes after the cut-off time. I hadn’t looked at my watch for quite a while but this didn’t come as a huge surprise, given how much walking I had done. I was so happy to have finished, not tempted to head back the way we came after the Lion Inn (described as the point of no return), not to mention enjoying the amazing landscapes and atmospheres that this part of the country has to offer. Fortunately for all concerned the riders on the 200 km (Three Bromptons, a Moulton and a Bickerton – that’s the name of the ride, not the entrants) were still arriving back so I hadn’t caused the fantastic band of helpers to be waiting only for me. These included Kat who had arrived on the same train as me and spent all day cooking and washing up, and Debbie and Colin who’d ridden the 50 km and then promptly rolled their sleeves up and staffed the kitchen. I was fed some excellent cheesy cauliflower soup, although sadly didn’t have room for many of the other splendid things on offer, although managed to sneak some parkin passed my digestive reluctance.
Health annoyances had kept me from cycling much over the last year or so, and it’s been a while since I did much more than my short commute, so I wasn’t as fit as I have managed to be in the past (and that itself wasn’t anything of note). I was riding my usual tourer but with its touring (rather than audax) wheels so it wasn’t the lightest, but having recently tried converting to straight bars it felt quite suitable for this ride. I would have really struggled on drops. It still feels like some sort of achievement to be out of time on a 100 km. What comes after full value? Overdrawn?
103 km, 1523 m ascent, average moving speed 13.7 kph, 10 hours.
