North Coast Classic 600

Unwelcome

Right, that's my bags packed, bike tested and oh I'm a bit warm and weak.

Two weeks of being anti-social, two weeks of shopping at midnight, and one day in the office at work saw two nasty red lines appear on my LFD the weekend before the Calendar event.
The last event needed to claim the Highland Audax SR Pin Badge, to get the 600 PBP pre-qualifier in after a 1000km failure, and just to top it off, an AAA Super Randoneur Series for a fat lump of a rider... If I made it.

My DNS email went to Andy with the comment "I’ll need to ride the Perm version", I got a response containing "It is a wee bit hillier", just a wee bit aye, the calendar event had 6 AAA points, Audax UK's reward for hillier rides each point being for 1000m of climbing provided the route is over the threshold for being "Hilly", the Permanent has 7.5 AAA!

The Highland Audax Permanents had already saved my attempt at that coveted pin badge since the Turra Coo clashed with the 1000km Highland Fling, I would have blogged about that earlier but, well, I got it a bit wrong and tried to take on Cowal on day two on nothing more than a Sausage and Egg roll, and while it wasn't any of that Link nonsense a bit more energy is needed than what the wonders of Lorne Sausage can for that distance.

With my hiking club having a meet arranged for August in Elphin I spotted the perfect opporchancity to get the ride done, there was only one problem, everyone else that could ride it with me said it was a bit close to London-Edinburgh-London for them to do it, an event I looked at briefly and then discarded in the "not bothered" pile largely due to the turn point for "Edinburgh" being Dunfermline, which means crossing the Forth Bridge, passing signs that say Welcome to Fife and probably also seeing the Lomonds, or in other words, far too close to home (20mi).

So I was resigned to riding 600km, 600 brutal km in a desolate landscape devoided of it's human occupants in the 18th and 19th Centuries in favour of a crop of animals that produced a return on their investment in the land (often won from the clan chiefs through bankruptcy or at the card table), those were sheep and deer. The populace forced out to the new settlements on the coast to participate in the Haaf, fishing for the then popular Herring or collecting seaweed for dyes, many were shipped off to America others were refused permission to sail but found ways to go anyway, meanwhile the landowners descendent raised funds from the few remaining tenants and planted a statute high above Golspie on Ben Bhraggie of his father, the 2nd Marquess of Stafford, 1st Duke of Sutherland or more aptly known as "The Bastard".

Fucked it Mate

Training was looking good, my bike going well, then one night as I put the power down after exiting the junction at Dunshelt I suddenly realized I had a fixed wheel, followed by the sound of spokes snapping as I tried to avoid a tyre destroying rear wheel skid and come to a stop.
As I turned the bike upside down (yes I know the rules) on the verge I saw it was as bad as it sounded.
I'd got the chain off the big ring and into the gap, forcing the spokes into all sorts of mangled shapes, it was a new wheel as well only 400km, bugger.
Backup bike it will have to be.

What else could possibly stop me from achieving this ride, this pin badge, this SR series and this AAA SR Series? How about Toothache...
I'm trying to get in the habit of Swimming again, it gives something to do when my legs are knackered from cycling and a bit of CV work, it's also rather handy if you fall off the bike into a big dub or something. (Fir the Dorics, that's the Fife Dub no yir Muddy Dub).  As I tried out one of the local pools I felt a throbbing in my not long Root Canaled and crowed tooth as I put effort in, the following days test ride of the backup bike confirmed this and I knew if it was the tooth then it was coming out and that means time off the bike, time that would be in the period I planned to ride.

I set tentative alternate plans depending on what the dentist decided to do, if the tooth comes out immediately I can ride on the weekend but would barely be with my club mates, or I could ride the following days, or... 
He peered at the X-Ray image on screen, "good news, the existing infection in the tooth is almost gone so we don't need to do anything drastic like haul the tooth out, but you need to brush harder on that gum to stop it getting infected.", I'd say Phew but I knew what was coming next, the needle in the gum, with no anaesthetic and a flush of the bulge in the gum with antiseptic, how is it dentists always make things hurt more? I spent the rest of the day in worse agony than it had started.

But at least it was an all clear to ride.

A Room with a View

The Grampian Speleological Group's hut in Elphin is rather nice even though I can't pronounce their name and has a cracking view of the Assynt mountains from the conservatory that doubles as a dining room.

I sat there eating my Weetabix looking at Cúl Mór pondering as to what I was about to do after a restless night sleep and a missed alarm had me awake at my intended start time. Not that it mattered as I was going to validate by GPS track and it would only affect the arrival time at potential supply stops such as Thurso and Wick Tescos which I need to be at before 10pm and midnight if they were to be of use.

I soon forced myself to roll down the gravel driveway and onto the roadway, within seconds though I ground to a halt at the sign for the Elphin Tea Room, I needed back up proof in case the GPS failed and Selfies were going to have to do the job in places, no matter how much I would have liked it I wasn't getting a cooked breakfast at this hour so a photo of their sign would have to do the job.

Almost a smile!

Getting going again I was prepared for a long hard slog round to Tongue in what's known as Hellfire Corner, also the title of Highland Audaxes 400km ride which I'd finished in May with 20 minutes to spare on the ACP time limit.
My last ride in this direction here was during LeJog on the fully loaded Touring bike so it's no surprize that I was faster on a lightly loaded Audax Bike, but I was surprized at how much faster, 12 minutes better up the Quinaig, I was going well and outside factors were involved with a brisk South Westerly giving that welcome helping hand, however on some of the descents the fatter tyres seem to have done the trick (The bike, luggage and me combination for this was heavier than LeJog)

I thundered into Durness with an average of 20kmh on the clock, I looked at my computer in disbelief and then faffed a lot of it away in the shop trying to figure out what I could eat, a steak slice seemed safe enough and a chicken and bacon mayo sandwich would be safe too, yet horribly dry I eventually gave up on the bread and ate the filling.

Smiling along Loch Orrible

I knew things were going to ease slightly in the hilliness department, but Loch Eribol was still to be rounded and that usually means a headwind in one direction, I seemed to still have the speed though as I set off along the increasingly busy road in an Eastward direction, I've got the passing places pretty much spot on, on the bike provided the oncoming or passing driver knows what you want them to do, and occasionally I was needlessly stopped by drivers who weren't up for passing me as I rolled slowly through the passing place or worse stopped on the entry to it preventing progress entirely until I had stopped, the best however as is to be expected were the wee red vans of royal mail and the blue pickups of Scottish Water, second only to timber trucks in the "not stopping for anyone" stakes, I stop for timber trucks (and get as far out the way as possible, they're nuts), but these guys know the score and can scoot round you almost anywhere.  They also do it repeatedly as they drop off the day's post so you get to know how good they are (unsuspecting tourists in rental cars also find out about their priority of way to these budding Colin MacRae's rather abruptly).

Loch Eribol proved to be sheltered, the wind conveniently coming from West enough a direction that the slog south was not a slog, but also that the slog North was not wind assisted. The Moine however was wind assisted and as I crested the summit the sun shone on Tongue, the Hostel and the campervans parked on the Causeway by the sea, the houses zig-zagging-up the hill, I thought about stopping at the hostel café but felt I'd taken on enough at Durness to get to Bettyhill, where I was convinced there were hot pies for sale.  This also allowed me to take the shore road, I'm not sure I'll do that again as other than a lack of passing places on the narrow bits the hill is I'm sure harder than the hairpins in the village, but it is shorter.

Between Tongue and Bettyhill is an amusing waymarker at Borgie Glen I need to go back to with Hiking Boots or Mountain bike "The Unknown".

I stopped for silly photographs because why not, a minute or two won't hurt will it.

The Unknown

In the Bettyhill shop I scanned around, cake yes, sweets, yes, sandwiches yes, pies... No.

Argh I wanted something warm, not thinking to ask if they still did Pies, I picked a suitably dairy free sandwich and some sweets and went out to sit on the wall. As I looked at the shop window while filling my water bottles I stared directly at a well hidden hot box filled with Steak Slices and Sausage Rolls. I chewed my bread and sweets thinking about what could have been, but I put this disappointment aside when, as I picked the bike up the shopkeeper reminded me that it's flat after Reay in 8 miles.

Flat Round Here

As the Nuclear Waste containment dome of Dounereay power plant came into view the vast expanse of flatishness lay ahead of me, and with the wind still behind me despite easing in strength I could power on along gently, resting my legs for what lay beyond into the night.

My pre-ride knowledge gathering had revealed rather disappointingly that Wednesdays are the day off for Castletown chip shop so I stopped at Thurso Tesco for tea, another sandwich and some fruit, and on to John O Groats for the control, again I expected I would be too late to get anything at least from the shops, I could possibly have got a drink at a bar but didn't fancy the temptation of somewhere warm to sit down in too long.

 

Despite having started three quarters of an hour later than planned I was concerned about my final pre-night replenishment options, Wick Tesco I had identified shuts at Midnight, I planned based on that being the cut off time before my late start and now I found myself hurtling down the A99 at a good speed with plenty of time to get there before even Sundown, another sandwich etc.

As I set off from Wick Tesco the sun had set and the sky blazed Gold and Red, but the best bit of all was the deserted roads, ideal for making progress through the night.

The A99 and section of the A9 is normally a horror story at the end of LeJog, one of the reasons I chose to ride from Durness when I did it and many others now use the middle road to Tongue, but I skizzed along the silent and damp, occasionally wet roads of the gloaming into the Night, the Berriedale Braes were on my mind, they were my one concern, the descent would be fine I knew, it was the climb that  I feared.

Leaving Wick

They arrived, if anyone could hear me coaxing myself down the hill as fast as I dared they would have heard a selection of swear words surrounded by "Get off the --- Brakes" and "Lean the --- Over", I'm reasonably bold at descending but I could be faster and one of my problems is staying on the brakes too long, often into the corner when everything else is set up to get round, the other is not leaning in enough, just ask Robbie my Tandem Stoker. As I reached the bottom I looked up at the cats eyes climbing ahead, illuminated by my dynamo light slowly dimming as my speed collapsed to a crawl and then I ground to a halt, the problem wasn't the steepness, I was actually riding up ok, it was just my head burst with the slowness after riding everything so well all day. It's only 10% for a kilometer and a half, nothing compared to what I'd stormed up earlier but my head was gone, worked myself up into the fear of the climb, and then it started raining.

I unclipped and started that undignified walk of cycling shame as my glasses misted up.

Early morning phone box snacks

Once up the worst of the brae I remounted and rode through the increasingly heavy rain, I planned to get to Kinbrace before having a snooze on the ground in the shelter at the station, but I wondered if there was something in Helmsdale, and why hadn't I checked the town out in street view before?
Adding to the problem was I was feeling hungry again, my memory said there was a good stone shelter at the junction but this proved to be a fiction of my addled brain.
Near the station I saw a phone box and dived in out the rain clutching the food I'd stashed in my bag at Wick for this purpose, though it was meant to happen when I stopped to bivvy.
It was 30 minutes I shouldn't have spent stopped, standing up in a phone box instead of sitting down preparing to sleep. A wasted 30 minutes

It was still raining heavily but I knew I needed to push on, I didn't think to check Helmsdale station for an open and possibly better shelter, I didn't think to check Kildonnan either as I rode up the Dale towards Kinbrace where I had been set on bivvying on the wooden bench or on the floor of the bus shelter. As I climbed the dale I doubted my route, it looked nothing like I remember from that Icy day Robbie and I rode the 200km round Ben Klibreck but then I know well that nothing looks the same going the other way, nor for that matter in the pouring rain in the dark at 1am compared to in ice and snow in the dark at 8pm.

I also expected to see the glow of the station lights, after all they were on when we did that ride, forgetting that the last train hadn't been when we passed that day, in darkness I arrived at Kinbrace.
344km, Twenty hours and Fifty minutes after I hit start on my computer, I wheeled my bike up to the shelter and realized the wooden bench had been replaced with metal and armrested, designed to ward vagabonds like myself away from a comfortable sleep. It was wet and getting wetter anyway.
I lay my bivvy bag down on the hard platform surface, in my wet kit, so wet I didn't dare put on my down jacket I climbed in and went to sleep, or at least tried to.

Desolate Isolation

At 0415 the timer on my phone chirped, I thought I was cold in the bag, I really need a light weight but warm liner to help with this, or at least to be sensible and put on the down jacket, I undid the draw strings and the cold air of dawn hit me, this got me going. The passenger information told me it was 0420, the next train was going the wrong way and the next one to Lairg was cancelled, so that was temptation sorted. 

I did the maths, for the AUK 14.3kmh pace I had two and a half hours in hand, for the ACP 40hr pace I had thirty minutes, it's not bad, but it's not great.

In the morning gloamin road sleeping sheep woke and legged it in both directions as my free wheel crackled them to life, these Moses moments both concerning and alerting me to the dangers on the road in this desolate glen at this hour the only habitation out here is the Garvault Inn, a white speck against the green and brown of the moor. If you come off, you could be lying there a while. Further on deer bounded around, thankfully always away from me.
A car parked in the middle of nowhere sheltered tent sleepers, now there's an idea (more weight, more bulk, maybe not), and then I recognized the slope, it was where I lost traction in the powderd snow on the way up, now I was on the way down to Syre, not a soul was about, not even a pickup driving farmer to tell me I was nuts.

The Crask Inn

A further failure of preparation was ahead, I had meant to contact the Crask Inn to find out what time breakfast was and if they would be able to serve me, as I climbed the last climb before the plunge to the Kyle of Sutherland I rued this mistake. I got there just before 8 with not a soul around.

The road on from the Crask was busy with workers thundering towards the wind farm construction site, the road widened with coarse gravel allowed them to carry on thundering with a couple of wheels rattling the stones.

I realized my poor sleep was going to haunt me as soon as the climb ended, the long, smooth and fast descent showed me how tired I was, I hoped I could get a snooze at Lairg after Breakfast.

At Lairg the first thing I saw was the sign for a Café and the door wide open, the second thing I saw was the closed sign and the "Opens at 10am", it wasn't yet 9.

I bought yet another uninspiring meal from the local shop and sat on a damp bench that offered no hope of a snooze, but I felt the meal had woken me. After passing more sheltered benches I rolled out of town and down towards the Kyles, once again acutely aware that I needed more shut eye.
I stared at Lairg Station, but carried on, but by Invershin I knew it was either here, Bonar Bridge or Ardgay where I'd need to find something.  I climbed the dirt track to the station and to my relief saw the small wooden shed of a waiting room, no longer than I am tall, and only wide enough for me to perch in the corner on the bench but that 10 minutes with my eyes shut saved my day.

The bottom of the Struie

I had put 15 minutes on the timer but the station maintenance man had come to empty the bins, despite my bike leaning against the station sign he was surprized to see me and his first thought was that I'd slept there all night, I didn't bother to say I had "slept" at Kinbrace but just said I'd taken a quick nap.
The day was feeling warmer already and at Bonar Bridge I stopped to change kit, taking off my warmers and swapping my wool Audax Ecosse jersey for my Mucky Riderz jersey in thin polyester.
And then after that I stopped at the shop in Ardgay, again convinced they did warm food and failing to find it all I bought was a bag of Revels that wouldn't be eaten until I got back to Elphin.

At the bottom of the Struie I was only just holding time, despite the good speed on the road my average since setting off six hours and 45 minutes previously was only 14.3kmh, the minimum speed of the Audax and the one hour and twenty five minutes stopped destroying my hopes of building more margin.

Somewhere up the Struie

The good news about the Struie is that it's quite an enjoyable climb, the bad news about the Struie is after 444km it's quite a challenge to keep riding in places, but I made it up.  On the steep section with the view point a gawking tourist could only muster "Oh Well Done!", I was putting so much in I couldn't get the photograph I wanted of a knackered, panting me and the Kyles below.
And of course as with all these ups, there's a good enjoyable down, all the way down to the A9. Crap. Why hadn't I checked this out properly? I could have... No wait what could I have done? Added distance going round by Dingwall? (There was also a 20m stop at Evanton Co-Op but I'll gloss over that for effect)

I found a gap in the incessant traffic of a touristic August Thursday mid-afternoon and hammered it with all I could find the 6.5k over the Cromarty Bridge and onto the climb to Culbokie, for the second and final time on the ride I got off and pushed due to running out of legs. (Garve Level Crossing doesn't count)

This route over the Black Isle is definitely shorter than going by Dingwall, Maryburgh and Tore, but it's also much hillier, maybe if I ride again I'll try the cheeky longer but flatter option.

It had to happen eventually though, in 42 hours it's bound to happen, someone would at some point get upset with me for some reason and hit the horn, after climbing out of Munlochy I was hurtling down the narrow road towards North Kessock and having spent the previous few hours riding single track roads I was of course rather confident in my bike handling at speed, on descents, going through small gaps to get round oncoming cars and I saw the land rover driver move over to make space for me to go through, so much to their fright, I did, squeezing through the gap about twice the width of my bike at 48kmh while turning round a corner. Really it was fine, you could have got a bus through there...

The Aultguish Inn and the Glascarnoch Dam

North Kessock was the turning point for me, as I'd started in Elphin and be getting to North Kessock when stuff was open I was allowed to turn here rather than ride over the Kessock Bridge and back, it would reduce the distance from 612km to 601km, but it's the 600+ that matters for the points and the bridge has no impact on the AAA. This is also the start and end point of the calendar event, I knew this was a good long gentle section compared to the rest of the ride, but it's such a long dull slog all the way up to the Dam, and I always forget about the plateau by the loch not being flat either. 

However eventually I felt my pace quicken without input, Braemore junction came into view and very soon after passed me by, climbing this hill on Hellfire Corner so close to the end, was Hell, descending it, so close to the end was Heaven right up to the point I was reminded that it doesn't plunge right into Ullapool and there's the long slog beside Loch Broom.

I stood on Shore Street at Twenty to Nine, I thought about trying to get a fish supper but that would take time to eat, I've done 582km, I've done them in 37hrs 56minutes, I have, two hours 4 minutes to do 23km to make ACP pace, I have 4 hours, 4 minutes to make AUK pace, only that later number matters really as this isn't an ACP event.
I've lost half an hour today already, so I went to Tesco.

Darkness Looms

I had the fear for this last section, the start of the Hellfire Corner roads, on Hell Fire Corner going the other way I walked every climb, today going the opposite direction I stomped them out with all I had left, I wanted to beat 40hrs.

Yet still I stopped for some photos to send to friends before the phone signal went, as much to say I'm still Ok, because at the end there is no signal to report safety.

I eeked out what I could on the descents, taking the same approach as on the Berriedale Braes, and as I rolled into Elphin I thought I'd done it.

But I hadn't, missing 40hrs by just short of 4 minutes.

Bugger. Not that it matters, as this is a Permanent and therefore only exists under AUK rules.

But still, it would have been nice to know I'd have managed it as an ACP event.

Stats:

Distance: 606.5km (all those mini detours soon add up)
Total Time: 40:03:45
Moving Time: 32:52:58
Stopped Time: 07:10:47
Maximum Speed: 65.7Kmh
Average Moving Speed: 18.4Kmh
Average Speed: 15.1Kmh
Under Audax UK rules my time limit is set for the 601km route at 14.3kmh or a nudge over 42 hours, under ACP Rules the time allowed is fixed at 40hrs