Longtown Way Round 300 - 27 July 2019

I saw this ride in the calendar later into the season than most of my planning.
I'd already ridden the Tyneside 200 and 600, and had entered the late season 400 a few days before the 600. With failing to complete the Scottish Borders SR series and an Ecosse SR Series dependent on fitting the Twilight 600 DIY in before the seasons end I realized the 300 would allow me to complete the Tyneside SR series.

The route was designed as a relatively gentle loop of the border, starting off from Ponteland and riding up to Alston Moor before plunging down to Longtown then winding over the border to Newcastleton for the only other "big" climb of the day over to Hawick followed by a valley spin in Teviot Dale towards Crailing where it picked up the regular route to Wooler via Morebattle; finishing with a bumpy ride through Northumberland to Ponteland via Alnwick. It looked ideal for the wind down before PBP, it looked an enjoyable day out and I dared to whisper, it looked fairly easy... So I signed up.

The forecast had been wet, very wet, in fact it was impossibly wet, 18mm of rain over 3 hours in the middle of the Scottish borders? Nah you'll never get "that" much rain in a maritime climate and it's warm, so I packed for light to moderate rain and set off down the road after work.

The Hardy Few

Andy hauled a large stack of brevet cards from his bag and proclaimed he had 61 entries, a scan of the room confirmed there was going to be a lot of riders DNS. I counted 16 present but there was apparently another 6 lurking somewhere.
The forecast was thankfully showing a more reasonable 3mm at worst, admittedly still wet enough to be unpleasant but skin's waterproof and the temperature was to be in double figures all day!

By some measures I'd hardly ridden since the 1000, just a few short local rides mostly of the steady paced form, trying to keep the fitness ticking over without overdoing it.  Summer had arrived and the heat was destroying my sleep pattern, in the hotel  I hung off the end of the bed trying to catch the blast from the large industrial fan as well as some sleep, it wasn't particularly successful.






I dithered at the start, and set off near last on the flattish run towards Corbridge, I know this road from earlier in the year and expected to be skimming along at a decent flat land pace, I wasn't I was struggling to hold over 20km on a road that I've ridden at 27kmh in a pack, my heart rate wasn't picking up either, well rested as I believed I was I should easily lift my HR into the 170s on the climbs and have to force myself to back off but I was stuck in zone 2, was it the lack of sleep? Was something else wrong? My ears had blocked up during the week and my rhinitis was restricting my nose breathing and sense of smell.
Could it be a cold coming on?  I worried as I climbed through the rain towards Alston Moor.

Yeuch

In Hexham I passed another rider who was hunkered down behind an electrical cabinet trying to shelter as best as possible from the rain as he fixing a puncture.
As I left town the rain seemed to ease but the further world was obscured by a light mist, further numbing my senses.  The rider passed me not long out of town and disappeared into the mist as it closed in with elevation.  I saw a rider in the distance, a dark silhouette in the whiteness, they got closer, I was catching!  My mood picked up, I can't be riding that badly if I'm catching someone.
As I got closer I realized it was the tandem with Peter and Amanda on it, on previous flatter rides I've generally been just ahead of them on the road, was the climb balancing things out or was I just starting to wake up?






I climbed into the mist, eventually a county march sign stood out at the side of the road proclaiming my entry to Cumbria, a larger sign behind it advising I was on Alston Moor, the hill eased and then flattened.  The mist was close, the air was closer, I was warm but soaked and about to start the descent on wet and greasy roads into Alston. I cawed canny possibly too much, pulling out of a couple of over length braking lines a tad late and discovering there was probably enough grip to corner a bit faster, but there was no need for speed now.

Alston Moor

Alston was different from what I'm used to, other rides I've done have come down from Yad Moss or up from Slaggyford.  The descent eased and then a sharp ramp took me past the "other" petrol station and then over the junction for a short descent to the Audax petrol station.  There was a lot of bikes still sitting there so I realized I couldn't have been that far behind after all, there was even a good bunch of riders eating and drinking outside.  I started looking for Robbie's bike, I found it sans-Robbie, he can't have been that far ahead at all I thought.  I entered the shop and made a beeline for the hot food cabinet, dripping my way through the shop if there was anything warm left I wanted it; John and Robbie were stood there eating pastries trying to dry off, a futile effort as they were only going to go back out into the rain.

I took a sausage roll and danish pastry, nearly forgot my receipt thankfully the shopkeeper knows the score and reminded me I needed one!  When I left the shop it had dried out and the sun was threatening to make a showing.  John and Robbie reappeared as I finished my brunch, and suggested I try and stick with them on the descent.  I set off with some hope I would manage to keep up on the initial rise but they disappeared into the distance and I needed a quick comfort break anyway.

I know the descent to Longtown well, it's not as good a plunge as it feels it should be as there's a sharp descent with tricky corner that drops a good amount of the hill very quickly before levelling out and then there's the descent from Hallbankgate to Brampton which is broken up by the Level Crossing and the Brampton bypass.  A train whizzed by as I approached the crossing but in the wet I wasn't chancing it on crossing the lines and slowed to a crawl to take them square on which requires a dive across the lane, the driver of the car behind seemed to understand.  I also missed a gap on the bypass and had to wait a bit.

The glut of riders that had been in Alston were now standing outside the pie shop in Longtown, but I'd just had a hot pie of sorts so went for a Spar sandwich, Robbie wanted a better receipt so came round to say hello, he'd been there 10 minutes.  They set off again, though only Robbie took the advertised route thanks to him planning to ECE the 315 to 400 afterwards and so needing to stick to a mandatory route.

New roads are always good and this ride presented some new ones, rather than take the A7 out of town we took the country roads over Longtown Moor, the roads were smooth but greasy and I was cawing canny again, a tricky series of hairpins in the woods that looked like they would be fun in the dry were taken with the utmost caution, I picked up a follower along here, I expected him to pass me on the way into the corners by he stayed behind and then dropped back on the climbs, the road wound its way to the Kershopefoot crossing of the Liddel water into Scotland and then rolled into the border village of Newcastleton.

I've been here a handful of times before, on two occasions it was passing through to get to mountain bike trails, the first of those times Al and I were heading for Kielder and the second it was to the Newcastleton "stane" in the motorhome to meet Alex.  I've also been on holiday here, twice staying at a caravan park at the old station, back then I remember every shop appearing to be proprieted by a Ewart, now the shop ownerships appear to be more diverse, but there was no light eminating from any of them despite the doors being open.
However at the Spar and Post Office the staff were standing outside, the rain was off but so too was the electricity, I got a timed post office stamp as a substitute for a receipt and opted to carry on rather than faff with change for a bottle of water. Hawick isn't far.

The 30km over Wauchope into Teviotdale shows just how remote Newcastleton is, a stones throw from the border to the south, another hill pass takes you to Langholm to the west, north east is another road over Wauchope that takes you to the road between Hawick and Carter's Bar at Bonchester Bridge.

The Northbound climb of Wauchope was a river, water streamed across and down the metalled surface presenting pretty patterns to distract me from the climb, in parts it follows the old Border Union railway with many of the bridges, tunnels and viaducts still intact, arguments are being made to reopen the line, but counterarguments are made that a line from Galashiels to Hawick and on to Carlisle effectively goes through nothing and linking to Berwick or Newcastle would connect more of the borders population.

Climbing Wachope at Whitrope summit

As I climbed under a bridge I thought I saw a Leyland National bus sitting on the embankment, as the abutment cleared from my field of vision I saw a tatty old Mk3 Carriage and then other railway machinery.  The "bus" turned out to be the experimental Pacer style single carriage Diesel Railbus RB004 a small group hoping to turn the lonely Whitrope summit into a "Waverly Route" Heritage centre.







On the descent the road joined the Slitrig Water which was in spate, a brown torrent tumbling towards Hawick to join the Teviot which was in similar state.  On the descent I remembered the local motorcycle racer Steve Hislop, 39 Isle of Man TT races, 11 TT wins and first to beat 120mph plus plenty of other races and palmarés, and then I remembered where I was and who I was with when I saw the news of the helicopter crash that killed him.

I wasn't sure of the layout of the town and I seemed to pass the wrong end of the High Street, I carried on in hope that there was a suitable Supermarket, thankfully I was soon spoilt for choice with a Lidl, Aldi and Sainsbury's on the road out of town.  I opted for the Sainsbury's and had a quick look in the café which was lacking a decent food selection at this time of day, so it was off to the sandwich cabinet which didn't inspire much, but the bakery still had some decent wares left so I had a high tea of pastry and chocolate beside my bike.  The rain was still off but the sky was threatening.

The road to Wooler

I was sweltering in my showerproof and arm warmers, but I could see more rain in the sky so I kept it on.  The country road out of Hawick soon links to the regular Borders route from Ancrum to Morebattle via Nisbet, Robbie appeared from nowhere behind me, startling me for amusement before shooting on.  He had gone to Morrison's and waited an age for a lacklustre cooked meal, I realized I hadn't sat down since leaving Ponteland.  Now that may sound daft, I'm sitting on my saddle on my bike all day, but my feet are still working, they are still stuffed into wet shoes, in wet socks and being asked to push against a small contact patch, I needed to put my feet up, but out here in the countryside, in the wet and wanting to get back at a reasonable time, there was no chance to rest.

At Morebattle I checked to see if anyone had gone into the Templehall, but not a bike was leant against the wall. At Town and Kirk Yetholms people milled around outside the pubs as the rain was still off but no bikes were to be seen. 
I crossed a bridge as a flock of cows exited their field and surrounded me, I kept pedalling in the hope they'd part, some stopped, others looked for an exit, but others kept running.
I thought back to being surrounded by cows on a footpath near home and how terrifying they are, then of the time my brother and his driver met cows mid-rally stage, and the state of the car that hit one a few minutes later.

I kept going at a gentle pace, hoping the 3 cows still ahead of me would find a way off the road, one's bowels decided they needed evacuated thankfully not directly in front of me.  I looked back and saw another cow following, starting to run.  My bowels metaphorically evacuated in dissatisfaction with the situation, and then thankfully a gap appeared in front of me as two of the cows thought they saw a way off the road.  I gave it a kick and they were soon behind me, I started looking for a house or farm to report the cows to, I didn't see one.  A car approached and I waved at them to stop... they didn't but they had their window down so I shouted "Cows" at them and hoped the driver didn't think I was shouting abuse.

The excitement abated and I followed this well travelled road into Wooler where I decided it was tea time, despite the late hour the co-op was well stocked and the staff member on the counter was curious as to where I'd been riding, he was suitably impressed with the fact I'd ridden from Newcastle and that I'd set off at 7am, I suspect he doesn't know where Longtown is but seemed unfazed by my reckoning that I'd get back around midnight.  I returned to the bike where a couple of locals were looking at it discussing my set up, though they never asked me any questions.  I considered sitting on the only bench in sight but it was soaking, even though my chamois was also soaked I didn't feel like adding any more wetness to it, my feet would just have to ache a bit longer.

The main road out of Wooler was quiet, signs teased a distance to Newcastle shorter than I knew I had to go and I soon turned off onto minor roads across country to Alnwick, more roads I know from other rides, the hill profile had a couple of small bumps then a big one, I knew the big one was the climb out of Alnwick, and knew it was only big because it was all that was left on the ride.

I stopped to get a cash machine balance print out at Alnwick as another rider locked his bike up to go shopping.  I knew I didn't need anything more than I was carrying with only 50km to go and I kidded myself I could get some speed up and treat this last bit like an evening ride after work.

I was now in the busiest traffic of the day, and even then it was pretty quiet, the odd hot hatch driver hammering it up the hill in 2nd to impress the easily impressed on their way to McDonalds.

Darkness

It was getting dark now and the wet roads made visibility tricky under tree cover even though my lights on.  I lost rough bits of road in the shadows, dry patches altered my vision, my night glasses steamed up irreversibly. Hearing, Smell, Taste and Vision all inflicted, my sense of touch was still working though, my hands and feet hurt from being asked to work in these conditions.
Shillbottle never ceases to confuse me, I always manage to take the wrong road, but never go the wrong way; I corrected the error by turning round and then getting confused again by the two roads round the central common; before realizing where I was and that I do this every time.

I was alone in the dark, the roads were empty, the air misty and wet, I couldn't hear the rustling of the trees or the wildlife, I started to worry about deer.  I realized that the nights are drawing in, it was hardly 11 and it was dark and noted to check what time it gets dark at home now.  My hope of returning by midnight was slipping, but the maths kept me entertained as I rode.  I got confused again, I couldn't remember if I needed to control in Morpeth or not, I nosed the bike into a bus shelter to avoid getting my brevet card soaked as I confirmed I didn't need to.

The bypass was surprisingly quiet and I got straight over the roundabout, down the hill and nothing tried to pass me, a handful of taxis were darting around as I started the climb out of town; 300km ridden, 16hrs 20m, not what I'd been hoping for.

15km back and it's practically flat, 40 minutes to midnight, I just need to average 22kmh but I can see I'm too slow, that flatness from the morning was clearly still present and I got back to the hall at 8 minutes past midnight.  Robbie was sitting there and straight up said he wasn't doing the ECE, and then suggested rather than drive straight up the road we should try phoning the airport hotels to see if there was a room; thankfully there was.