Fort William 1000 - 5th to 8th July 2019

Schiehallion from the Caravan, what better a view to relax and recover to?

I've taken myself to my parents' caravan on Loch Tummel, looking out on a majestic view of the loch and Schiehallion beyond, I can still feel the shape of SPD-SL cleats in the balls of my feet, in my hands I can feel the imprint of my bars which I've held onto for 50 hours out of the last 71 riding and the friction burns of my slightly oversized gloves on my hands where dry skin flakes off.  My legs don't ache too much and I walk around with reasonable ease suggesting I've prepared myself well for this with the amount of riding leading up to this point.
Other than the occasional walk around the caravan to cook or take a photo of the mountain beyond I've limited my exercise to putting DVDs in the player and lifting books from the table, I'm in static recover mode, this is the last big ride before the big ride in France.

From now except for a 300km in Northumberland and a 200km DIY my hopes are to find some speed, lose some weight and improve my climbing, I also have to do a complete checkover and repair of the bike, there's only four weeks until I'll be boarding the sleeper to London to start the journey to Ramboulliet for Paris-Brest.

Prior to the Blackpool-Glasgow 600 ride last year I entered a Blackpool-Fort William 1000, I realized at the time that if I wanted to do the 1000, which I reckoned would be a "good idea" prior to PBP then it made sense to enter before I was reminded of the horrors of the B7076 through Dumfries and Galloway.  That road is known for it's washed out tar leaving the aggregate sticking out and slowly but surely shaking you and your bike to pieces.

Touristing on the sea front

Robbie and I met up on the train to Edinburgh on the Thursday, a happy accident as my original plan involved booking space on an Aberdeen Scotrail service as a back up to hopping on one of the unbookable Arbroath trains.  I can do this from Leuchars because an Off-Peak Return is only marginally more expensive than advanced tickets; unfortunately I forgot that I would be travelling on the Thursday only remembering as I approached the station to collect the tickets.

Last minute fettling at the dinner table

A quick phone call to Scotrail the following day in the remote sales cooling off period and I was sorted with a ticket for the earlier XC train that Robbie was on; at Edinburgh we picnic'ed on the platform as we waited for the Trans-Pennine train towards Manchester Airport and watched the airport bound passengers arrive with their flight cases and happy moods. After a change of train at Preston we arrived at St Annes-On-the-Sea early enough to go for a quick explore before discovering that Robbie's new seat post needed friction paste in the mechanism, thankfully we caught the local bike shop just in time and he sorted that before a distinctly average tea at the pub.

At the Scout Hut people arrived through the evening, many were staying in the accommodation there and others who were staying in nearby hotels popped in to say hello, a couple from Colorado riding a tandem with asynchronous drive-train piqued curiosity as they hurriedly set up their navigation devices with mapping and route.

In the morning the hall was packed with breakfasters by the time I was up and about, the 8am start was sociable though this would mean riding through or dodging rush hour traffic on the way north.  An Irishman had lost his wallet and passport, people offered to help him out on the way north but he had decided to pack at Paisley, though I don't see why as I'm sure people would have seen him through and being Irish he doesn't need a passport to be in England and Scotland anyway.

Waiting for the start

I had been discussing route options on YACF and decided on a slightly longer route out to Carnforth than the route sheet based on the Lakes Velo Easter Arrow Route that I knew would be reasonably quiet, when we set off I was near the front with Robbie and Aiden and I was waiting to see how many riders would carry straight on at the lights for the route sheet's suburban route and how many would turn off to skirt through the countryside; of the riders in front of me only 2 carried straight on, a sudden feeling of responsibility briefly crossed me before realizing that they couldn't all know about the bridge toll.


In the group we hurtled through the Fylde countryside and onwards to the north but somewhere near Glasson Dock Aiden made a call to pull over and let the long line of traffic behind us past, the front of the group pulled in but the message wasn't passed down and the back hurtled on, I pulled over having realized what was happening and the group was split; we carried on at speed but I was now on the back of a small group, a sharp rise put space between us on the way into Lancaster and I was on my own, the traffic lights and traffic only helping to make the gap bigger.

Climbing Shap

As I left Lancaster a second group started to pass, "Big group passing" was the call, "I'm getting on if I can" was my response, I wasn't letting this go to waste; a good sized group towing me to Carnforth was just what I needed, my pace was back to being decent however they pulled off towards Tesco.
I carried on, preferring the truck stop shop for my control. I passed Aiden and 2 other riders who had chosen the town bike shop as their control, the owner was appreciating Aiden's Barrow Trike as I passed.




At the truck stop Robbie was just leaving the shop as I arrived and he said he'd hang around for me, I grabbed food as I was already feeling the need to eat and set about eating it, Robbie hadn't realized I would be doing this and decided to set off alone as I tucked into a chicken wrap and coke.

The lump between the Gareloch and Loch Long

I set out from Carnforth alone, occasionally faster riders said hi as they passed, traffic was heavy in Kendal and I crawled round the one way system cursing myself for forgetting that the town centre pedestrian zone allows cycles.  The climb of Shap started, more riders were around me and we exchanged greetings but continued at our differing paces, I remembered the landmarks from Blackpool-Glasgow, the first crossing of the power-lines, the false summit and rapid descent into a dip past a house, then the final climb first passing under the power-lines again followed by the summit telephone relay station that's now a glamping pod.  Robbie was there waving me down, he looked terrible.

He told me he'd stopped twice on the climb and had just woken from a 10 minute nap, I suggested he may have bonked, the pace was high and I'd needed to eat at Carnforth whereas he'd bounced it, I suggested he'd better get down to Penrith and try eating.  We set off together and stopped at Shap where the shop was doing a roaring trade to hungry and melting cyclists, he still looked terrible, we carried on down the hill and I started dropping him on the undulations, this isn't right.  I was realising that he was possibly ill but didn't want to say it, effectively telling someone they need to pack the ride is very different from letting them realize for themselves so I felt I had to avoid aiding his decision unless absolutely necessary, as we approached Penrith I told him to find a tea room and demand the finest cakes in the whole world getting the "Withnail and I" reference all wrong.

Ben Arthur (The Cobbler) and Ben Narnain
from the approach to Arroachar

At Penrith the traffic was heavy again and I was glad I'd spotted a cut round the side of town when mapping, though I hadn't spotted a flatter route to Carlisle than over Heskett that Aiden had shown me but I couldn't figure out how to get to it which was rather annoying as I know the road from rallying. The long drag up started and when I finally reached the top at High Heskett, I was hungry again and the heat of the day was causing me to drink more than I expected.  At Carlisle I took an unscheduled stop at the Truck Stop for another wrap and coke.  I knew Gretna wasn't far but I wasn't really planning to eat there knowing I would now be able to get to Lockerbie truckstop (nearer to JohnstoneBridge) with only a quick bounce at Gretna.

The roll in to Carlisle was at commuting O'Clock, not ideal in any way but I managed to cut through the traffic ok to get to the service road beside the motorway, at Gretna other riders were tucking into food and I briefly contemplated buying food here, a quick visit to the shops and I was grabbing an ATM receipt muttering words to the effect of "feck that I'm not paying a fiver for a fecking sandwich" though I may have used the bad F-Word.

The A83 approach of Glen Croe to the Rest and Be Thankful

The B7076 has a bad reputation with Scottish riders, it's mostly built out of the old dual carriageway and in many places the surface is as old as when that was dualed in the 1960s, the result being that the surface is pretty knackered, in some spots particularly on the south facing climb the sun has over the years melted out the tar from around the aggregate meaning you're constantly dropping your wheels into the gaps between stones.  You can find smother lines however, the shoulder  doesn't have any aggregate in the surface layer and in some places despite the road being all but deserted the other carriageway was retained and made cycle track and somehow still has a good surface. 

Thankfully the motorway services are roughly 20 miles apart so knowing I was only 30km from Johnstonbridge services, I knew I was less than that from O'Neils truckstop just south of there, the hour and a half to two hours it should take to get there was also looking like perfect timing for tea and I set off wondering what would be on the menu.

The sun was still beaming down on my back, overheating me and burning my peely-wally Scottish arms when I got to O'Neils, I made a bee-line for the café and to my delight was able to order Steak Pie with vegetables for a delightfully low fee, I then set about sorting out the bike for the next stage topping up with water and sweets to get me to Paisley.  As I got stuck into the steak pie a bunch of VC167 riders arrived who passed comment about my rate of eating, their food was only just arriving as I left.

Inverary

As I climbed the surface suddenly smoothed out, piles of gravel built up off the wheel tracks, normally surface dressing is dreaded by cyclists but here it was bliss, what was once the worst part of the road finally gave some respite from the bar rattling proud aggregate. It's less than 20 miles to Abington almost all uphill, up Beattock is not so much a tough climb as a long one, crossing from Annandale to Clydesdale through the forests around Harthope. At Abington services I ate again, I knew I was well down on calorific intake already and there was another two days to go.



The B7078 takes over the mantle here, crossing the muirland between Abington and Lesmahagow, the surface in places is just as bad, but at the same time the cycle track on the old carriageway is mostly good except for the accumulation of stones, moss and other annoying crap.  After the brief climb onto the muir from Abington it's a rapid descent to Uddington and then a gentle climb past Happendon services and the run into Lesmahagow, from there it was a haul up to East Kilbride in the dying light through Strathaven which should never have the "ath" pronounced.

Bonawe

On the muir before EK my Wahoo froze, I'd suspected it was coming as I could see the slow down in response on page changes, it was unfortunate that it happened in one of the places I needed it to navigate so I stopped and initiated a reboot and recovery. EK proved not to be as bad on the periphery as it's made out to be, the route was comprised of roundabout after roundabout and then a nadgery descent to Thorntonhall, this was where I discovered my electrical fault.  Rounding a corner at speed in the dark my light flickered then dropped output to daylight mode, I reached for the switch on the backup and carried on, I fiddled with the wires and figured out that the connector had a loose wire, my soldering failing me again!

The ride through Glasgow at chucking out time was less eventful than I feared and I rolled into the Paisley control just before 1 am. I cleaned myself up a bit and went to bed, the plan being to see how I felt at 3am, I struggled to sleep, waking regularly but not feeling awake enough to carry on, when my alarm went at 3 I knew I needed longer, a strange fit like shaking passing through me not from the cold as I was warm, I took another hours sleep.
This would be where I defined how much time in hand I was working with; the control closed at 0759 so I had arrived with 7 hours in hand, the 13.3kmh minimum average required for a 1000km brevet easily beaten.

Connel Ferry Bridge, the falls of Lora below

I set off at 5am with 3 hours in hand, through the deserted Saturday morning streets of Renfrewshire, past the airport, getting confused by the access to the Erskine bridge with 2 other riders, one of whom got confused by the route on the other by the route off, both thanks to the poorly signposted closure of the downstream track and diabolical way it joins a zig-zag footpath into a park below.
I rolled through Dumbartonshire on the cycleway while others took advantage of the deserted dual carriageways, I spotted a McDonalds and was disappointed after drooling over the thought of pancakes to discover that it was drive through only at 6am, though the sign on the wall telling people they would be banned if they overstayed their welcome or returned after they had left was surprising for this more affluent area of Greater Glasgow.

I carried on, despite the light breakfast at Paisley I was hungry, very hungry, although my sense of smell is knackered I could pick up the waft of the in-store bakeries at the co-ops I passed with 7am openings, I couldn't really wait at the door for them. eventually and at the last chance in Helensburgh I found a 6am opening Tesco Express with added bakery waft, I dumped the bike against the AdBlue and logs and launched myself to the bakery before feasting on Pain Au Chocolat and Hazelnut Croissants in the forecourt.

Approaching Glen Coe

Soon I was riding past the Faslane peace camp and past the high fences and barbed wire of MOD Clyde, home of Trident and the Nuclear submarines that are chocolate teapots until someone is mad enough to initiate M.A.D.
I nearly missed the turn for Arrochar, plunging down a hill towards Garelochhead and roundabout gave the turning away from the Gareloch, away from the madness of nuclear war and up a great big lump of a hill and then down onto Loch Long, riders from the Trans-Alba rode towards the madness, at a pee stop I checked the progress of riders I knew, I thought I might overlap with Steve Scott if lucky but he was still a long way away.

I reached Arrochar at half-8, the lumps I'd already ridden seemed to have sapped some energy from me but nowhere was open, Glen Croe was about to come, the road felt quiet, I ducked into the toilets at Ardgarten as a chance to judge the road as much as the break, it still seemed quiet. I passed the access to the "Old Military Road" or to me the "Rest and Be Thankful Hill Climb track", where famous locals such as Jackie Stewart and not so locals like Raymond Mays once pitted their cars and car handling skills against the gradients and turns, the quietness of the main road seemed preferable to lifting over the gates and trying to drag my tired body up the final gradient.

The modern road sits high on the slopes of Ben Arthur, unfortunately this hillside is dynamic and in recent years a number of landslides have closed the road resulting in a length detour via either the Dunoon and Portavadie ferries to the west or by Glen Ogle to the east, work is ongoing to minimise the risk and at the road works I let everyone behind me past it was only 4 or 5 cars at that point, but as I climbed I was aware of a lengthening queue, the works making the road narrow enough that there was no where for me to pull over and stop, and whats worse I was struggling away in the single digits.  I started to hope the burger van was in the car park, I struggled on, the workers held the lights and as I reached the summit I pulled into the car park and kept riding until I was at the burger van.  I wanted a Venison burger, but it would be 15 minutes, so I settled for Beef and then I rested and was thankful.
The summit is called the "Rest and Be Thankful" due to a stone erected at the summit by the military work party who built the lower road in 1753 which instructed travellers to do so! A replica is now to be found in the car park.

Loch Achtriochtan, Glen Coe

I waited for the back of a tail of traffic before crossing the Bealach for the plunge into Glen Kinglass, with the burger in me I reckoned I could get away with bouncing Inverary, and as I rolled along Loch Fyne I decided I'd just go to the petrol station; the small shop there had a small selection of baguettes which I made a selection from, however I still managed to spend 20 minutes queuing and eating sweets, I reckoned I'd probably want to eat the baguette at the summit as the haul out of the village is a steep ramp that slowly eases off until you summit near Cladich. 



I was melting in the heat again, and I didn't stop at Cladich but carried on to Bonawe where for the first time ever I was passing through when the shop was open, I bought an ice cream and coke and sat on their bench sneakily eating the Inverary baguette. Checking the Trans-Alba tracker I saw Steve was heading towards Taynuilt where there was a brief overlap as they approached from Oban via Glen Lonan before turning off for a lap of Loch Awe. As it turned out when I checked at Taynuilt I missed him by a few minutes, the main road to Oban is an easy ride beside Loch Etive.
At Connel Ferry the Falls of Lora were just gentle seabound rapids but impressive none the less.

Half midnight at Crianlarich

When I reached Halfway Garage at Dunbeg three other riders were propped against the bags of coal, two were continuing but the other Andy W was packing the ride and was hoping to get a train from Oban.  I'd see him later at Paisley and Lytham as he worked his lift back!
The ride up Benderloch and Appin were as enjoyable as ever, I hopped between the road and cyclepath choosing the shortest flattest route almost all the way until I missed the turn for one part and had an unwanted climb to do.
At Ballaculish I was dreading this next bit, I'd managed to get myself on the A82 leg to Fort William as people returned from their days out for tea, traffic was busy towards the Fort but mostly quiet going the other way, Aiden and Anne were the first riders I saw heading south, followed by a handful of others as I approached Fort Bill, the town is long on approach and no one has ever conveniently opened a shop at this end of town, the big houses and hotels mostly pre-date the developments around the town centre and fort.  Town dragged on, finally I hit the bypass, I couldn't think of anywhere to go other than McDonalds at An Aird, the retail development around the Shinty Pitch.

The two riders from Dunbeg were there, it was only now I learnt they were on the 1200 and working to a more relaxed timescale than I was. I'd reached Fort William after 542km in 34 hours 40 mins, 1840, control closes at Midnight. 5 hours 20 minutes up.  I stayed an hour, 1940, 4hrs 20 minutes up still decent.

Sunrise on the invisible banks of Loch Lomond

As I left McDonalds a rider rolled in, the road was quiet on the way south, I reached the Larochs early enough to stock up supplies in my bag at Ballaculish co-op for the shopless stretch to come and then I set about the climb of the Pass of Glen Coe and onto Rannoch Muir; I've climbed this before, on a wet holiday Monday with two working gears, on a roasting Glasgow holiday Monday in terrible traffic and in the depth of winter when only the locals are around.

It was quiet enough, I stopped for a pee the corner before Jimmy Saville's house, children in a car that had stopped were amused by my Al Fresco micturation.
The rider from McDonalds, Moumen caught up with me here, he told me he'd bounced the control by walking past the queue ordering 6 McChicken Sandwiches and dumping them in his bar bag, I never saw him eat them.  It was getting dark, we rode together past the boarded up house covered in graffiti and through the Study, the waterfall rather timid after a dry winter. 


The glen starts to open out here, the masses of the Buchailles of Etive stand to the right while Rannoch Muir starts to open to the left, the Rannoch Wall on the right, the Rannoch Muir Kings House to the left, rebuilt recently to questionable taste, and then we were out on the Muir.
The old road winds to the south, past Tigh-Creag-Dubh, Telford hardly deviated from Caulfeilds road over the black mount but in the 1930s the road was diverted on a different route, exposed out on the muir it climbs the black mount gently, the summit at 348m not much lower than Telford's route that now forms the West Highland Way.  The descent at first is gentle between the lochs, but it gets faster, and faster then there is a sweeping left hander past a view point and a steep switchback descent to Loch Tulla, my weakness on right handed corners always shows here as I never get the speed or angle right to get round without correction.

Paisley Control

We whizzed though Bridge of Orchy, Moumen didn't realize there was a climb to come before Tyndrum, the road drags back up to 315m before plunging you into Tyndrum, my disc brakes howling as I pulled up to a halt at the water tap at the Green Welly to fill my bottles for the leg to Paisley.  Oddly we weren't the only ones, 40 hours into our ride and just under 618km ridden, just in the time limit for a BRM 600; midnight on the second night, a car pulled up and the occupants waited to use the tap after us.




I told Moumen that I was going to stop at Crianlarich for a sleep, we got there at half midnight, 6 hours in hand, another rider was already sleeping in the waiting room. I got out my bivvy bag and lay on the bench, setting an alarm for an hours time I couldn't risk too much sleep. Sleep came easily lying there on the uneven bench, the alarm went off and I woke with the shakes again and decided I'd need more sleep, I did this again finally setting off at 3am feeling much more awake and better.  I've hardly driven the A82 from Crianlarich south, it's really off route for me.  So I hadn't realised that after the steep climb out of Crianlarich it's a long fast descent down to Loch Lomond followed by a long flat drag, given how easily I went to sleep at the station I'm sure I made the right decision, there was also a distinct lack of other options.

At this early hour the road was deserted, the only sign of life a young lady running between properties somewhere in Glen Falloch, we said good morning and she replied, rather random.
The sky started to lighten as we rode down the Loch, I'd mapped the cycle route and old road and accidentally took one of those routes losing the advantage of the gentle grades of the new road, traffic started to pick up as we stayed on the dual carriageway past Balloch and Alexandria and into Dumbarton we were retracing out wheel tracks now over the Erskine bridge, past the airport and past St Mirren's new ground into Paisley.

High Heskett too early to be a Hotel

We arrived at 7, with 5 and a half hours in hand such was the speed of the last 85km.
Helen on the control told me to take a seat and asked if I knew why, a simple way of checking the mental state of riders this far into the ride.
Andy W was serving breakfast in the kitchen, still in his cycling kit. Moumen asked to be woken at 9 and went straight for another sleep, I'd ascertained while riding with him that he's a fast rider.  I got changed into my last set of kit and prepared to set off, I sat down briefly on a sofa and woke up at half 8.  I set off through the Sunday morning traffic in Glasgow, it wasn't busy but I was slow.

My second visit to Abington was on 53 hours, 1300, 5 hours up, I've only built up an hour since leaving Paisley, and it's lunch time, the queues at each concession were prohibitive so my ideas of lunch had evaporated from another box of noodles into an overpriced sandwich.


Oggy and Raymond were already here, Oggy was ready to go, Raymond was faffing, I was ready to go, we set off together with a rough idea of sticking together for the descent, I lost them without meaning to on the climb to Beattock Summit.  Then the descent began, I was picking a line on the smoothest tar whether shoulder or tyre track, the heat was getting to me again, I stopped at the truck stop for ice cream and coke as well as a water top up, they were doing Sirloin Steaks for a tenner in the Café.  I queued longer than I'd have liked though a trucker trying to buy something he didn't know the name of and a staff member that didn't normally man the shop didn't help. I took a 30 minute break, longer than I'd have liked, long enough to have had that sirloin!

Somewhere on the Wyre

Not long after the Truck stop I caught a rider who was having problems pumping up a tyre, I lent him my pump and tried to have a quick snooze on my bivvy bag, we then rode together through to Gretna where I accepted I'd need to spend some money on food and then Carlisle, he dropped me on the climb to High Hesket. I decided to take the high road despite the extra climb to see if there was anywhere to rest I found it in the form of a bus shelter at the summit,  I sat out the sun eating a cake from my bag.  I was ravenous again and knew I was going to have to stop at Penrith.



The hurtle into Penrith took me to the first petrol station moments before they started to shut up shop for the night, I raided their shelves with two purposes in mind, feeding me now and feeding me later; my plan was to climb to Shap village and stop at the bus shelter, I could probably have carried on to Kendal but a check of Travelodge prices favoured the bivvy. I got there at 11pm, I sat and picnicked on the cake and juice from the petrol station, and then I slept.  I woke naturally at half midnight having slept through the 1 hour count down timer I'd set; I started shivering again. It wasn't cold at 8c but it felt like a cold shiver this time, the trapped warmth of my bivvy bag lost and my damp sweaty kit really not helping.  I had layered up with long sleeve top and gillet over my arm warmers and I kept these on for the climb, I was soon regretting it and unzipped to avoid needing to stop.

A clear morning sky over the Fylde

I could hear the powerlines above me, I knew I was at the summit, but this side of Shap isn't a steady descent, first the plunge to the house and repeat climb, then the plunge to Garth Row and a caravan abandoned across the other half of the road, and then the plunge into a near deserted Kendal, 0130 Monday, all is quiet, not a pub kicking out, not a kebab shop over run with drunkards, it's Monday morning.  Some kids are wandering in the middle of the road, apparently my bike's shit, I suggested to them that it's me that's shit.




Endmoor is dark between the hedges, 0300 at Carnforth and Oggy and Raymond have passed me as I slept, they're chatting to the cashier in the petrol station, I later find out that the café is shut for a "deep clean", so the hankering for an egg roll wouldn't have been satiated.  I take my time over the stop, there's 50km to go and I've still got 4 and a half hours in hand.

Lancaster is deserted at 4am, I'm delighted, I get through without a worry, the climbs are annoying but it's the last ones of the ride.  Back out into the countryside, with the time I'm making I'm starting to wish I had the direct route back in my Wahoo.  Somewhere on the Wyre I see Oggy and Raymond asleep in a bus shelter, I know my next sleep will be on a mattress.
6am and I'm cutting my way across the Fylde on a route I've designed to dodge the traffic, in some places early starters are on their way to work, I have an issue with a series of cars overtaking as I indicate right on one of the few sections that's on a main road.

O'Neils Truck Stop food

This route is lumpier now than it felt on Friday morning, my speed profile is lumpier, I roll into the scout hut 70 hours and 43 minutes after I left, 1026.4Km ridden, 14.5kmh.
Andy W is there manning the control thankfully now in normal clothes while Andy C sleeps.

As I faff Oggy and Raymond arrive followed by Moumen, I don't eat, I ask what bunks are free and grab a shower before sleeping, I get a good 3 hours.
When I wake the VC167 riders are getting ready to head home, I think for the first time ever I see Aiden not wearing cycling kit!  I hang around and talk to a few riders that are there, Andy C is now keeping track of who's still out on each ride.  I start working out what train I want before heading to the station and for Tesco raid.





There was of course a sting in the tail, when I got to St Annes on Sea Station after a cream bun for lunch and just after I purchased my ticket the station announcement advised of a points failure cancelling the very train I wanted, the next would only leave me with 15 minutes at Preston and then if the points had failed would it be able to run?

I considered my options and finally decided the only one was to ride up the seafront to Blackpool North to catch a train to Preston on the busier line, I made it with plenty of time to get a baguette at Preston.

On the train north I had to apologise to the series of passengers sitting on the tip up seats in the bike space that I had the space reserved and then collapsed in my seat, waking briefly to post on YACF.
At Edinburgh I realized the flaw in having an Off Peak Return, it was Monday and I was there at five, just a bit of a wait for the first valid train home.

I'm rather pleased with how many aspects of the ride went, other than the Wahoo and Wiring issue the bike behaved as best as I expected with a worn chain ring, as things turned out had I tried to change that when I got the new ring I'd have been making a late bike swap as I discovered a fault with the drive side crank arm which thankfully didn't fail on me before I found it.

The focus is now getting a good refresh before PBP, the wires will be fixed it's one of my early bits of soldering on the SON Co-Axial connectors where I didn't quite get how they need to be soldered.
Cranks, Jockey wheels, chain rings, possibly a cassette and although I have two chains sitting not quite fully worn I expect a new chain to go on in the final preparation for PBP.

I stayed at the caravan until I got bored of not doing anything other than watching TV and reading, there's more interesting things to be doing.