Yorkshire Via Essex - 600km - 22/23 June 2019

I was meant to ride the North Coast Classic 600, however following the Tour of the Borders and Galloway that sore throat and flemyness turned in to a hard cough that floored me for a couple of days.  I contacted the organizer advising of my DNS and as I had train and accommodation booked I offered to help which gave an interesting insight into the other side of Audax seeing people arriving at the sleep control, the first riders alert as midnight neared and then as the night drew on riders arriving further into sleep deprivation, and then the later riders arriving with minutes to spare, a 5 minute power nap and off they went. The finish was a different experience again as darkness induced tiredness had been whisked away in the early evening, either by a good nights sleep or regular power naps.

Let sleeping Audaxer's lie...

The next weekend was the Borderlands Explorer another 600km, I started off feeling much better and I powered along the flat ticking away in a quick group, but as soon as the road went up I knew I wasn't right enough to ride the full 600, so after the first control I turned back to Gala and hung around the hub control for the weekend.  No eye opening tiredness, but other interests and riders arrived and told us of their plans, a sleep, carrying on into the night or perhaps packing the ride.  One rider returning having had a ride ending mechanical 10km into the final 150km leg.

Borderlands Ready to go... erm no.

After those two weeks off it was time for the 4th 600 I had entered, Yorkshire Via Essex; I decided to enter this for a number of reasons:
I wanted the novelty of a "flat" ride, there was only 2000m of climbing on the RWGPS link.
I wanted a ride where I would have to carry everything with me, this to mimick my need to do this on PBP.
I wanted something different, well Lincolnshire, Essex, Cambridgeshire and South Yorkshire are "different"

My window at the Sleaford Travelodge looked out onto the A17, a constant stream of vehicles slowing for the roundabout where it crosses the A15, the sun was low in the sky and an yellow glow lit this scene, sunset was on us already and darkness wouldn't be far behind, it isn't lost on me that I travelled far into Southumberland for the summer solstice, at home sunset was still half an hour away and darkness would be a function of the clouds with no night or astronomical twilight to be seen until mid-July.

Even as far south as Sleaford there is no night but Astronomical Twilight fell outside and I drifted off to sleep, unspoilt by the lack of darkness for the first time in a over a month.  I woke with my alarm, half 4 in the morning, I'd discussed with some other riders staying at the motel about riding down to the start together just after 5.  I had a small breakfast of tea and croissant ready as well as my kit sitting out and bike almost ready to go.

I waited outside for others to appear, and we rode in a small group into town, a slight descent involving navigating a one way system.  We were first at the station where the start was to be, a velomobile arrived and attracted attention, this would probably be the longest it would be in sight for most riders.  The organizer, Richard arrived telling us he had planned to ride with us but having already got his 600 on the Tour of the Borders and Galloway (I spoke to him at Biggar Sainsbury's) and after a late finish the previous night he decided not to ride.  A good group of riders were now congregated and I wasn't paying enough attention to the time, but more to who was there and who I might be able to draft.  Andy Berne another tall rider who I know I can get a tow from, though returning the favour is less common as he's a much stronger rider.  Suddenly 6am was on us, I didn't have my GPS on and feck...

The Velomobile pulled out and overtook everyone

I waited for signal and mapping to show up, and set off in pursuit. Traffic lights helped here and I was soon in sight of the back of the pack, we flew onto the quiet lanes towards Chatteris, I was behind Jim Hopper on the trike, a good sized pack just in front of him, the velomobile appeared from behind me, I didn't even know he'd stopped, then as a recumbent rider passed Jim's trike the Velomobile zipped past everyone in sight and was off into the distance, I wouldn't see him again.





The speed of the group started to pick up, a car behind me starts to pass, I'm behind Jim's trike and I'm faster than him today and he's not for holding the group but I can't pass because of the car, the gap widens as the car passes, I get round Jim and just like on moderate grades the group slips slowly from my sight; I'm dropped already.

Flatness as far as the eye can see

I was cursing, a compound of mistakes and I've missed the train, I'm fighting into the headwind alone, as a slight consolation Andy B now tells me he slowly lost the others, he made it round to Boston with a 27kmh average allowing a good sleep, I doubt I'd have held onto him.

I looked around, the cabbage fields went on forever, punctuated by the odd tree or wind pump, no sign of rising ground anywhere.  I scoffed as I battered through a village called "Peak Hill" but it turns out I had climbed to a whopping 5 meters above sea level without noticing it.

Fenland Friends

Riders started to pass in the other direction, the Fenland Friends Audax was running from Great Dunmow on what is essentially the reverse of the route with only a handful of routing variations and then mostly due to being diversions round roadworks in Lincoln that are more suitable for the direction and timing.  I reached our first control at Chatteris a name that was causing me some problems, a table set up outside the Green Welly café, I contrasted the Green Welly I know in Tyndrum to this location and got my card stamped before sitting down to a breakfast roll.

Guided Busway

Riding out of town it was flat again and I felt I was making a decent pace, suddenly my Wahoo screamed at me to turn left as I crossed something suspiciously like a level crossing, but nothing like a level crossing.  I remembered we were taking the path beside the guided busway into Cambridge moments too late and had to turn back to pick it up.  Things got busier as I rolled along, the occasional bus passed or stopped at stations, pedestrians with dogs, students on bikes, a roller blader.




The guided busway turned into normal roads, the cycle way switching from dedicated carriageway to painted lanes and back, and then through the centre of Cambridge though throngs of tourists, the pace dropped drastically as I threaded through a pathway created by a cargo bike, thankfully the tourist trap isn't long and I was soon back to painted lanes and bike carriageways along a busy main road.

I hadn't noticed the climb to Cambridge, but the climbs after were harder to miss, short sharp bumps mixed with the gentle rise taking me to the ride's highest point at 120m just after Safron Walden.  I don't watch much TV any more, and although I hear about shows like "The only way is Essex" my perception was formed by Spitting Image's  "Essex is Crap" song, I was however pleasantly surprised as I climbed and swooped down through pretty English villages, big towered churches, country pubs, floral displays and the second control in Great Dunmow.

Some riders were sitting eating a pub meal at the table next to the controller, but I decided having been warned about service time to go to the co-op a few meters away instead, it was only now I realized just how warm it was, with the headwind providing some cooling I'd hardly noticed but now I was feeling the effects of not drinking enough for the conditions.  I set off again into the rolling hills, I noticed that county marches are hardly marked on the road in England and I didn't know I had crossed into Suffolk at Clare where I picked a pub and made an impromptu stop for a glass of coke and water.

The next control was a receipt control at the end of a long broken descent in Red Lodge where I'd not paid attention to where the shops were, thankfully riders were just leaving the shopping centre and pointed me into it. Just under 12 hours and I was on 230km, not quite as fast as I'd hoped but still good going.  a couple more bumps and it was back on the flat, a brief shop stop in Whittlesey for another receipt and it was a long press back over Peak Hill to Boston.

Following Dave into the night

Darkness fell and the temperature dropped, I reached Boston McDonalds just after Midnight having caught a couple of riders, Dave and Phil who was on a high recumbent.  Dave and I discussed what our sleep plans were and we were both planning to Bivvy so set off to look for a spot together.
Somewhere in the darkness a low bright light was approaching, blinding me as it approached, the rider of the recumbent dodging rough surfaces by riding on the crown while I was doing the same, we both dodged out the way at the last minute, neither quite able to work out where on the road we were. The first of the Fenland friends had passed in the night.

Dawn

Somewhere on the water railway we went under a bridge, a heat trap that felt warm, we decided to try bivvying there and got set up.  Bikes whizzed past in the night, I slept, and then I woke up cold. I decided to pack up and move on, Dave woke and I told him I'd probably see him in Lincoln McDonalds.  I crawled along the Water Railway path at Sunrise, I remembered the advice of many 24hr MTB riders, "The hours around sunset are the most amazing but also your slowest".  I'd never noticed it on the MTB, but I was noticing it today.  I rolled past benches and even an old Plate layers hut, I wondered if the hut would have been a better spot but decided against checking.

 Rejoining the road at Washingborough I was presented with a fantastic bus shelter with 4 walls and a wooden bench, balls.  I carried on to Lincoln, winding through bike lanes that disorientated me, a late turn up a bridge in the wrong gear almost had me off the bike, through a retail park car park and I could see the Golden Arches ahead but with limited idea of how to get there, eventually I made it.

I ordered pancakes which I dispatched in short order, but took more time over my drink.  Dave arrived and ordered breakfast, next thing I knew I was lifting my head off the table and Dave had moved to comfier seating, I'd also managed to give my battery pack and Wahoo full charges from the system, I discovered I'd been asleep almost an hour!

Lincoln itself is hilly!

We set about the climb up through Lincoln, a real hill here touching 7% in places only to lose most of the height in a plummet and then regain it in a similar steep hill; on that hill I lost Dave.  I made a mistake while wobbling and put my wheel in the gravel at the side, I stopped and knew I wasn't going to get going again, my bladder told me I needed the stop anyway. I pushed to the top and set off again, a decent descent through Kirton Lindsey and I was skirting Scunthorpe, I started to recognise the roads from Great North Road and the Arrow.  Goole was getting closer, and I was going well, there is nowhere to hide from the wind on the Isle of Axeholm but I wasn't wanting to think about the return leg quite yet.


I took a rest before riding over the bridge at Gunness, and then again at the shop in Keadby on the other side, 28 hours in and I wanted a second breakfast, Goole isn't far from here but it felt like forever as I caught the procession behind an oversized load that had just left the docks, it took me a while to realize that there was a shared use path alongside the road and taking to this I whisked myself past the queues of traffic once I knew there was going to be no more conflicting manoeuvres (right after it had gone the wrong side of a roundabout and clipped the kerb in the process), photographers were up the road from it as well making short jumps between photo opportunities and the challenge now was getting across the junctions with vehicles stopped on all sides I had to wind my way round them to use the crossings.

Pump or Mill?

At Goole I'd decided I wasn't having a McDonalds, there was the choice of a chain pub or a subway; I opted for the subway it would be faster and I could see the bike.
As I sat eating a steak sub I saw a couple of riders leaving, one in a VC167 jersey but they didn't appear to have the height to be Andy and I didn't see Dave moving around either.
I set off on the road back to Goole docks, free flowing again after the oversized load had passed, I turned into the wind as I crossed the bridge over the docks; the impact on progress was felt in the legs and body, thankfully this leg was taking me to Gainsborough rather than back the way I had come and things started to get lumpy after Crowle, climbing and descending 15m bumps along the way.

Street Art

I saw the photographers car again, along with a small crowd watching the oversized load which had now turned into a field.  The road got busy as I plugged along and then oddly as soon as I crossed the march into Nottinghamshire the roads went quiet, the riding was pleasant again, though I didn't feel I had much left to give it.
I had a couple of bus shelter stops before Gainsborough, one in a nice box with bench out the sun, the other in what was more a village meeting place, a big circular hut with fences for sides, the first in Missingham, the other in Idontknowwhereborough.

Generic Flatland view

I reached Gainsborough and pulled into a pub car park, it was busy, very busy and I decided it wasn't the time or place for a pub lunch, even though that was what I was wanting but the chances of getting it at 2 in the afternoon seemed low.  My cranks had been coming loose again despite tightening the lock nut and the main bolt so I tightened them up, I think despite many reliable years on a previous bike their time is up for me.  There was a climb to a bridge and then a descent to a junction with a petrol station, I went straight for it and raided the shop of what I felt I needed, coke, sweets and pies.

I sat on the step of the forecourt with my bike leaning against the AdBlue and Coal, and as I was contemplating a bite out my Chicken and Mushroom slice Dave appeared.  After I had the unplanned stop on the hill he'd held a similar pace and was just ahead all the time until my Gunness and Keadby stops, riders with more pace and better sleep in them had passed me as I shopped and he had managed to get a tow from them to Goole where they had made use of the McDonald's, I hadn't needed to ride alone at all if only I had been able to tolerate one more Chicken Legend.

Following a laden rider through Cambridge

Other riders appeared in the forecourt but they weren't looking very Audaxey, having just been for a relatively gentle spin in the nearest hills.
Dave spoke to them as he ate and I sauntered over once I'd found the energy, and then we set off again, a long drag back up the hill to the top of Lincoln where we made a last stop to top up liquids at a petrol station.

As we were setting off I spotted a rider entering the roundabout, suddenly my tiredness disappeared and I launched myself down the hill, trying to catch the unwitting victim, I was catching, I was aware of cars behind me not overtaking, I started to wonder if my speed was anywhere near sensible, Dave was behind me somewhere, the rider peeled off into a residential street, my quarry gone by a chance of routing.  The traffic lights halfway down the hill changed to Red...



Dave screeched to a halt beside me and exclaimed something about not having a chance to look at his speed, and then the lights changed again, another kick and we were back at sea level and rolling well over the bridges. We regained most of the height lost on the other side of town, a short sharp climb followed by a lumping through countryside back towards Sleaford, on a tree lined road heavy drops of rain fell occasionally, enough to encourage the wearing of the rain jacket but never getting serious and thankfully we stayed dry.
We were soon rolling back into the car park of the Travelodge and obtaining our Sleaford reciept from the petrol station  to complete the ride, then settled down on the benches next to a shipping container and with a fantastic view of the pumps for a rest.

I checked into the Travelodge and then we headed into town to deposit our Brevet's in the designated postbox.
Not a bad weekend, but the company was essential to enjoying it, I never realized flat could be so hard to ride!

Tour of the Borders and Galloway 600 - 1st June 2019

After "Over the Hill and Back" the Focus was due a bit of attention so on the Monday night, as I carried out the standard routine of cleaning road debris from the frame, cleaning and re-lubing the chain and generally checking it over I felt a clicking in the headset.
I decided to leave it for the night as it was getting late and I had a spare set of bearings in the toolbox waiting so it was only a 5 minute job.

On Tuesday I took the front end apart and found that as usual the bottom bearing unit had split into it's constituent parts, the top bearing was fine of course so I grabbed the spare bearing from the toolbox and discovered it was for the Genesis rather the Focus.  Undeterred I found a website offering next day delivery on the bearing I needed, but it was well past time for that so would have to wait until Thursday for delivery, hatching a plan to visit the local bearing shop at lunchtime to see if they had any.

Clydesdale around sunset on the first night

After a few minutes in the Bearing shop at Lunch time on Wednesday receiving a not unexpected explanation of how bike bearings are either custom to the manufacturer or standard and that this one wasn't standard (you'd think then that the manufacturer would specify them with suitable weather proofing) I left empty handed and dependent on Royal Mail delivering on Thursday.

I was otherwise in the huff with the bike and therefore ignored it for the evening.

When I got home on Thursday the bearings and a new frame bag had arrived, I fitted the bearings with a bit of faff as I managed to drop the top bearing and then tried to use a spare which of course was also for the Genesis, but eventually I got the bike set up. I span the front wheel to test the lights and discovered there was no back light.

I checked the cable and found one line was failing continuity so I'd probably broken the wire while the bars were disconnected from the steerer; further to this my throat started to scratch badly.

I spent some time trying to get the cable fixed but nothing seemed to work, to add insult to injury I dropped the soldering iron on my finger while failing to tin a wire in an attempt to attach a ring terminal and lost some time swearing with my hand under the tap.  Plan B was a battery rear light, the best I have is a B&M Secula but that has an issue with the operation of the switch, the rubber plug has gone soft and it can't push the switch, I'm still working on a solution to that as the previous fix involving a blunted drawing pin rusted away.  I looked at removing the rear carrier bracket from an old rack for a cateye light that would fit nicely on the bagman... it was rusted on and wasn't going to shift, my throat getting scratchier and midnight rapidly approaching it was time for Plan G.

The Genesis was retrieved from it's storage location at the back of the garage, short ride wheels replaced with the dynamo and 36 spoke rear wheel, bagman on and little time to worry about the fact I've not ridden it in the new shoes yet, I fitted the new frame bag, loaded it up, loaded the car and went to bed.

At the start

I'd taken the Friday off work so I could get a decent sleep before a relaxed journey south mid-afternoon although the scratchy throat didn't help much with either and if anything it was getting worse.
Robbie had decided to enter the ride so I went to collect him from the station in Dundee just after midday and we soon joined the traffic jam that is the Edinburgh Bypass, we eventually made it to Newcastle just before 4, plenty of time to Metro into town for tea, for Robbie to panic buy a base layer and stock up with last minute provisions.

Waiting for the off

I got an early night, though I was repeatedly woken by my nose and throat, I felt pretty good for a morning when we arrived at the start in Ponteland.  Andy had a good spread available and a good number of riders were lined up for the start.  Robbie started faffing with his Wahoo which was failing to start up properly and none of the reset button combinations were working so he set the gps running on his phone and having left his route sheet in the car decided he'd just have to hang onto people. We rolled out at the back of the pack and set off for the first control at Alnwick.  A number of good riders were around us including Michael and Neil, and Steve Scott who's Arrow team we rode in, so we barrelled along quite nicely

On the road

As is customary I was dropped as soon as the gradient rose. However I soon started to recognise the road and at Acklington Station I realized we were on the same route northbound as Merse and Moors uses towards Alnwick.  The road was mostly flat with the odd bump and on each bump any distance I'd clawed back was lost again until the climb to Shillbottle where finally I no longer saw those in front.  I started to see other riders again as I rolled through Wooler, the first Co-Op in town rammed with cyclists looking for receipts, some deciding not to wait went looking for another source.  I rolled into the town centre and found the market to be on forcing a minor reroute, I spied the trusted cut out Co-Op logo only to discover that as I didn't have time to set up a funeral plan I'd need to find somewhere else, pausing to consider my position I spotted that I was at the back Morrisons and obtained a water top up and sweets considering that I would arrive in Morebattle at lunch time and there was a café there who were expecting us.

On the road

From Alnwick the route became bumpy and led us past the pub in Eglingham where their neighbour took the huff about bikes leaning against things and moved the bikes during "Nae bother to us" as we sat and rejuvenated at the bar.

Through Wooler where my limited English geography meant I was confused as to why we didn't need to control and onto the Yetholm road, I was suffering from my scratchy throat more now and I was gunked up a fair bit.  Rolling into Morebattle I was delighted by the thought of a decent café feed... Unfortunately the café weren't quite prepared for 60 hungry cyclists descending on them in the manner I had anticipated, and the service of soup and sandwiches was slow.  I skipped the soup and had plain tuna sandwiches, all the other options involved cheese, it was too early for the pub and too late for the shop.

Morebattle Café

I ate the limited fayre and cracked on pausing briefly at the public conveniences in the village centre before picking up the well known route to Selkirk, skipping the chain bridge at Ormiston for the blat through Eckford to get to Nisbet, I got a surprisingly clear crossing of the A68 and rode through Ancrum admiring the Vintage cars parked up including a Bugatti with the predictable puddle of oil under it.  The long drag carried on through Midlem, and I was relived to finish what I reckoned was the hardest climb of the "first day" as I reached the road on top of Lindean Muir. The plummet to the Ettrick began, other riders had stopped at the petrol station to take on extra fuel but I reckoned I'd be fine to Moffat, 160m of altitude lost in the space for 5km almost half of the slog up from Morebattle.

Riding towards the border

The terrible surface of the Yarrow road jarred my wrists, the advantages of a gentle gradient lost as the bike jarred and jumped it's way upwards.  Some riders caught up with me and suggested I try to join them which I managed for a few minutes, but I got confused with the way they operated the rotation (which was the standard way) and I decided to drop off as I wasn't getting it right. I saw a number of bikes sitting outside the Gordon Arms, I considered stopping to join them but decided instead to carry on to Moffat for tea. However I stopped at the café at St Mary's loch who had just switched to their takeaway service but still allowed us to sit at the tables and eat cake from paper bags.  A biker outside asked if I'd kept dry and I said I had but pointing to the dark clouds at the summit I suggested I wouldn't be for much longer.  I put my rain jacket on before setting off for the final leg of the climb to the Pass of Moffatdale.

The Border

Some VC167 riders had stopped to put on rain gear just before the summit, and I rolled past them preparing for the onset of the soaking from the dark sky in front however the dale was surprisingly dry, a mist hung in the valley hiding the summits, the plunge to the foot of the tail followed by the long "annoying" drag down to Moffat I was preparing for where to eat tea, I failed to find my first choice and I ended up going to the chip shop on the road out of town, a spicy haggis supper to fuel me to Lockerbie Truck Stop, possibly not the best of cycling foods but it was tasty. A quick bike check revealed my Non-Drive Side Crank arm was wobbling in a peculiar manner so I re-tightened it before setting off again.

Bugatti with characteristic pool of oil

With a belly full of finest Scottish grub I set off up the Deil's  Beeftub climb out of Moffat, a good steady climb for 10km at 3%, as I climbed the mist came down, as the mists came down things started to get wet, however it didn't last long and as I dropped past the Crook Inn site of the "Cyclo Rave" during "Ride to the Sun" things had dried up again, Biggar was the next stop and riders were congregated at each shop, one told me that the small newsagents was open but I pointed out the Sainsbury's at the end of the high street, as I rolled through I remembered stopping here for Ice Cream on journeys south when it was still quicker to head directly south than to travel to Glasgow first. Another rider stopped at the shop as I stood eating the juice and sweets I'd purchased which included a Tony's Chocoloney salted caramel bar, one of my favourites when I'm visiting friends in the Netherlands, we briefly discussed the high aggregate content of Scottish road surfaces and the impact of that on hands, then I set out from the climb to Beattock Summit which I had convinced myself is at Abington services...

Traffic Jam D&G Style

Although the main A702 road was quiet I followed the GPS track on the A72 to Symington and A73 from there, the routes looked roughly equidistant, and last time I was up I rode the A702.
At Symington I joined the West Coast Main line as I entered Clydesdale, the bright lights of the services appeared on the horizon before a turn or dip in the road hid them, I was glad I'd soon be on a descent.
At Abington I could see some riders had stopped but I rolled past, soon the descent, but it didn't come, I'd misremembered the road; Beattock Summit not arriving for another 16km and 50m of climbing.  I caught another rider just before the summit and I agreed with Robert that we'd ride together to the Truck Stop, the A702 here hasn't been resurfaced since it was one carriageway of the A74 and probably long before the A74(M) was built to make the number change. I looked for the best surface and found it in the "cycle lane" in the shoulder where less aggregate was set into the tar and so remains smooth despite water run off and traffic wearing down the tar in the main running lane.  As I did this a police car passed us at low speed, curious, and being a long way from anywhere this was particularly unusual.

The pass of Moffatdale

At last the summit came, we left Clydesdale and picked up the Elvan and we picked up speed, hunting out the smoothest line trying to reduce the bar buzz, ahead a bright red light and a torch were to be seen, it was a Polis stop.
The Polis was interested in whether we'd been on the motorway as there had been a reports of cyclists on it, there are a number of spots where you can easily go wrong and also a number of spots where the NMU road that cyclists use could be misidentified as being the motorway.
The polisman was interested in more information about the event and Robert handled that while I re-tightened the crank arm, I eventually determined that I've loosened off the lock nut so while the crank is tightened onto the splines correctly it's able to come slightly loose in it's own mechanisms.

Climbing the Beeftubs

We were wished a good night with the football result and a suggestion we might be a bit far from Colvend for a sleep stop, although I'm a night owl so my estimate of a 4am arrival wasn't of concern to me, Robert was thinking of taking a longer stop at the Truck Stop.
We got there just after 1am, Robbie and Steve had been there half an hour and had decided to take rooms, I chose a plate of beans on toast from the menu and had a decent break.  Two other riders with suspiciously Fife accents were there and were travelling north to Kennoway from somewhere in the middle of England I vaguely recognised them so briefly said hi.

I set off again on the road, things were still dry but it wouldn't be for long, 3 other riders caught up with me at Dumfries Tesco where I got an ATM receipt for the control and we rode towards Colvend together, I noted as we rode out of Dumfries that there's 2 roads that lead to Colvend and that I'd got the wrong one on the way to Dalbeattie 7 Stanes a couple of times, we didn't make that mistake and were soon riding towards the coast.  My usual lack of climbing ability as well as a quick check of the opening time of the Dalbeattie co-op meant the other 3 arrived just ahead of me; I wasn't hungry so opted to head straight for my drop bag for fresh dry kit to sleep in and asked for a 6am wake up call allowing for over an hour and a half of sleep.

Beeftubs Plateau

I got a rough sleep and was standing next to my airbed setting my jersey up when the wake up call arrived.  I had another plate of beans on toast along with cake before setting out into the now heavy rain. I forced myself out the door and onto the bike, setting off back for Dalbeatie where the route would diverge for a lap of the Glen Kens.  Neil and Michael had stayed near Dumfries and caught up shortly after leaving and we rode together for a short while, the weather dried out, Neil and Michael carried on at their speed and not long after I took the Palnackie road Dave C caught up in their place.
We rode up towards Castle Douglas and back into the rain, I've never been there in the dry, I must try it sometime.
Dave wasn't too sure of which side of Loch Ken we would be passing, I hadn't realized that there is a deserted A road on either side so wasn't sure either, as it turns out we only rode beside the top of the loch near New Galloway as we'd gone the other side towards Laurieston.

Leaving Colvend

A slight navigational error at Dalry which lengthened the climb (which I think was preferable to the sharp climb on a narrow road) and we were soon climbing a bleak drizzle swept muir that went on it seemed forever.  Finally we approached some trees by Kendoon Loch where the Carsphairn road nestles, a short rest at the junction was followed by a short descent, glad at last to rest the legs and hide from the drizzle a bit in the trees but not long after that it was back out onto the muir again, I hit a wet cattle grid at speed and felt the bike slither as I hadn't hit it square.  I told Dave about me looking for a camping spot out here while LeJogging and the lack of suitable spots, and he told me about his hammock based solution to that problem.

It was wet up at Kendoon

We passed through Moniavie, an oddity as the second syllable is stressed rather than the first making it Mony-AYVIE. I stopped hear for tea after making the mistake of taking this road over to Ardrossan and discovering nothing open at 3pm. I eventually staggered into the Craigdarroch Arms hotel parking my touring bike next to a massive Honda GoldWing and my self next to its rider and tucked into a massive plate of steak and mash as a band talked and sang in a mockney accent somewhere else in the pub.  You can read about that trip in another post
https://nefifemtb.blogspot.com/2015/05/outer-fife-penzance-to-thurso-via-lands.html
(Although note I misidentified the pub, George was the barman):

We chose not to stop at the shop to top up as we had enough to get us down the hill to Dumfries, the rain was easing as we descended and in Dumfries it was almost pleasant, we spied a McDonald's which had a number of bikes parked outside and added our dripping kit to the cleaners frustrations.
After this staple lunch we carried on through the town centre as things started to clear up, a long steady climb out of town brought us to overheating point as our wet kit and rain jackets started to become liabilities and after a short period of descending when the skies showed there would be no more rain we stopped for 5 minutes to adjust kit.  We rolled into Annan needing a top up and stopped at a chip shop/café for cake and juice before carrying onto Longtown.

Not the cattle grid I got a fright on.

At Longtown we managed to miss the decent looking café who having just got rid of the previous cycling customers were closing up, leaving us with only a pub that served distinctly average food.
Many other riders passed as we suffered from slow service both in delivery of the food and in provision of the bills.
The next section was the Hadrians Wall road across the roof of England, and Dave having coped with my slower flatland pace started to struggle to cope with my glacial scaling of walls.
In my mind this road was a series of gentle climbs so I hadn't really prepared for the reality that soon hit me as steep walls appeared in front of me and all I could do was grind up them; eventually I told Dave to crack on, he's too polite to leave you but it got to the point where our riding was so different we couldn't ride together.  I caught him at the top of Greenhead where he'd stopped to make a phone call and again at the Sycamore gap where he was taking a photo, he shot past me at a rate of knots shortly after that and I didn't see him again until the finish.

Heathersgill it's a long way up from here

The road was destroying me mentally, the sharp climbs and grinding out with all I had left was not great and I couldn't really see how much more of it was to come.  However not long after Twice Brewed the wind started gusting strongly behind me and I felt a good shove along the road at nearly 60kmh on the flat not to mention the helping up the hills and then there was the rapid descents touching 70kmh.  On the last final sharp dig two impatient drivers caught up with me and somehow thought hitting their horns would somehow help; then on the descent where I must admit I was going for it and my line must have been looking pretty ragged as I dodged the rough surfaces two more drivers thought it wise to hit their horns.

The descent off the Wall was rapid and I was soon at a junction I recognized from Merse and Muirs again, there was one last hill to climb, although we had been advised of an avoidance route I didn't have it on me though I wished I had as I can see riders that used this got back much sooner than they would have if they went over this hill.  The road climbed, and steepened, climbed more and steepened even more, Eventually I was grinding my way up a 20% ramp thankfully near to the summit and the pedalling got easier as I entered an exposed plateau, I pedalled gently along recovering from the climb and saw that with the time on the clock and knowledge that it was down hill all the way from here I could still be back in under 38 hours.

Sycamore Gap

It was the red rag I needed, I set about making the descent as fast as possible, .I hurtled down the hill knowing it was 16km from the finish from the top, at the bottom things eased off to but I saw a sign telling me it was 6 miles to Ponteland, the same distance as it is from Hazleton Walls to home, what's more the profile was similar, starting with a lumpy plateau before descending directly though without the interlude of the Gutchers plunge.  I pushed myself as I do on that route regardless of distance ridden.  A deserted country road, no sign of others ahead or behind just me, I can't be last can I? I know I'm not as I passed a group of VC167 riders, a yardstick of how you're getting on in these parts at Greenhead, but then they're locals they might know the flatcuts!?

I rolled into Ponteland almost struggling to stop at the bottom of the path to the hall, Andy was waiting to welcome me in as I pushed the bike up the path,  I took the bike into the hall and Steve was welcoming me back too; straight off I wanted to know when he and Robbie had got back!  They had only been back 20 minutes and Dave was only about 10 minutes. Robbie started telling me about the wind on the descent from Twice Brewed to dodge the hills to the finish as I tucked into my 3rd plate of Beans on Toast of the "day", food I was well fed up of!

Second Sunset

I had entered the North Coast Classic 600 after seeing photos from Hellfire Corner, but as you may tell from the lateness of this blog post that the scratchy throat turned into a cold, the cold kept me off work and in bed and I realized I'd need to DNS.
A disappointment as the Far North is stunning, and almost every time I've planned something up there something's gone wrong;
On LeJog I was bustituted so I didn't get the journey on the Far North Line; another trip planned I didn't make it out my bed on the day of travel because I was struck down by a heavy cold.
Another and strong winds made things interesting.
Although I suppose the Ben Klibreck ride was a success despite having to use ice spikes.

Over the Hill and Back - 25/26 May 2019

The mid-morning start gave a chance for me to get a good nights sleep in, a welcome change from the common 6am start for a 400, the hotel breakfast preparing me for the days efforts.
The weather was dry but the sky was overcast, the forecast was threatening heavy rain for the Central Belt and borders while North Northumberland and Cumbria would get heavy drizzle through the night, however to counter this the temperature was forecast to be mild allowing lighter kit to be in the bag than I have commonly had of late.

As we set off from the Focus centre I stuck with the bunch and managed to keep with them as we rode along the usual mid-forenoon route over the hill from the town cross; as is customary once we reached Selkirk the stronger climbers disappeared into the distance as I renewed my never ending struggle with gravity,  I knew I was slow, slower than normal, struggling against that other invisible foe, the headwind. When I got to the Old School Café Robbie was sitting with the SBR group who were nearly ready to go, they had been there for a good half hour having a leisurely lunch of a soup and sandwich.

I decided to partake the same victuals though swerving the cheese options left me with Butternut Squash Soup, a Tuna Mayo Sandwich and chocolate chip cookie to finish off; though I was doing okay for time I couldn't allow the soup to cool long enough so sadly had to let half the plate of soup go to waste.

We set off from Eskdalemuir with light rain falling with a plan to avoid the A7 on a route I had identified that looked like would reduce the distance and not climb as much; this involved taking the A7 cycle path to the Cannonbie junction and then turning onto country roads that would cut the corner of Longtown taking us more directly to Brampton. 

As we approached the bridge just after Langholm we spotted the road closure signs had been removed, deciding that as Geograph showed a walkable route past the landslide that had closed this road for nearly 5 years it was worth a shot we escaped the horribleness of the A7 and found ourselves on a nice country road and as we approached the site of the landslip the fresh barriers, embankment and tar of a completed construction project delighted us.  Not thinking the smooth tar let speed build fast on the twisting descent and suddenly I realized there was limited grip on the freshly laid tar, still greasy from a lack of traffic, destabalized by thus poor adhesion I straight lined hanging onto the brakes for as long as I dared before taking a turn away from the impending rockface on the first corner of note, I completed the descent a tad more cautiously.

Cutting the corner, increasing the climbing

The road descended rapidly towards a narrow bridge over the Liddell Water where the only hint we had switched country was a small sign welcoming us to Cumbria where at Heathersgill I was briefly confused by arriving at a crossroads where all of the other 3 legs were painted with give way lines; not a normal road set up.
As we reached the Brampton road along this "short cut" it became clear that either the mapping I'd used had duff elevation data or I had mis-read it, as we clocked up an extra 300m in this section and also that thanks to the unexpected road opening it didn't work out as short either.  A welcome diversion from the A7 drag but perhaps not ideal during a 400km that's noticeably overdistance and also endowed with 2 AAA points for the climby section in England.

Brampton marks a low point on routes that go this way the road in sits at 36m as it crosses the river Irthing, on this ride unlike we weren't just going up to Alston, we were going "Over the Hill" to Barnard Castle; that hill is better known as Yad Moss the road sumitting at 598m! Though this isn't the highest road out of Alston, that is Killhope Cross which reaches 623m.

The Alston Train

The climb to Alston itself isn't too bad, after a sharp pull through the trees out of Brampton and the nasty crossing of the bypass and watching your wheels at the Milton level crossing it's evens out to a gentle climb through Hallbankgate, Midgeholm and Slaggyford. We passed a field full of tents and a sign stating "Heart of Scotland LDWA" curious!  From Slaggyford the road ramped up, a bridge and a corner that leads into a sharp ride I call "the bastard" lifted us from 205m in the village to 272m only 2km out of town, from this summit it's gentle undulations to the town centre, however as we climbed we heard the chuffing of the South Tynedale Railway engine making it's way up the hill, we had overtaken it. The low speed it travels at making it easy to pick a photo spot to wait for it.

Bumping into riders on the 240 from Halifax

As we stood at the petrol station eating a mid-afternoon snack that could be Afternoon Tea a rider Robbie knows arrived much to his surprise, soaked and unseen at the start.  The Old 240 was overlapping with us and the riders had had a soaking on their way north; this gave me a twinge of hope, the rain had not been forecast to pass south of here and certainly not so early, had the weather front brought the worst of it to the south of us?
Other riders had not checked the GPS route for oddities and had arrived via the NCN route and were reporting the typical involvement of a bit of off-roading including stairs, not ideal!
Maybe I should have shared my discovery on checking the route with others.

Conditions remained dry for us as we climbed up the cobbles out of the village and began out ascent to the Yad Moss ski centre, despite the severity of the ascent we were making a good pace and the thought of the summit passed my mind as the view opened out to my right and the scene to my left became bleaker; eventually the ski lifts poked their tower tops above the hillside but there was no obvious building like at the Scottish Centres just lifts in the moor.  A good cattle grid announced our entry to County Durham and I noted that we still hadn't seen anyone heading North.

Yad Moss

As we plunged down the hill I noted the amount of habitation just off the road, slate roofs scattered around the moor generally with gable into the wind but a couple oddly set to take the full brunt of the wind, rain and snow.  Through Langdon Beck, noting the pub and youth hostel for the ascent and finally into Middleton-In-Teesdale I was distracted by and interesting shop frontage on the corner and passed the junction for Barnard Castle.

Barnard Castle

At Romaldkirk we joined the route of the Great North Road of the previous weekend for a short overlapping stint to the turn at Barnard Castle.  On Brant and Slape Paul Revell had recommended the Fish and Chip Shop so we were drooling as we climbed the main street of the town and arrived just as the outdoor and rear seating areas were closed.  I assisted the staff with the seats so we could get the bikes against the wall and sat in the window eating out suppers, a Haddock for me and a Sausage for Robbie.

Yad Moss in Daylight

After we had eaten at stepped back out into the world I could feel the change in the air, the wind was gusting gently, the air was heavy, I could feel a storm brewing in the air.
We left Barnard Castle and started the climb as the light started to fade, gently at first through Romaldkirk and Middleton to Newbiggin;
I had paid attention to the speed and feeling of the hill on the descent and decided this was the easier side, mostly low single digit gradients with a sharper ramp at Langdon beck, the lights of the hostel shone out in the flat grey light, we could see guests sitting in the warmth playing board games, drinking, some were still in the kitchen.
By the pub things were darker still, the trees rocking in the wind, cutting out more of the light, again a welcoming interior scene was set, after crossing over the bridge and a sharp ramp took us out onto the moor proper.  The houses I had noted scattered around earlier showed their habitation status, sitting room and bedroom lights shining out of the darkness in many but a few showed no signs of life.

Yad Moss in Daylight

We entered the mist; the first cattle grid rumbled under our wheels, a landmark in this bleak landscape muted by the whiteness of sensory deprivation.  The wind and rain and mist continued in the nothingness, the summit cattle grid finally rumbled, now with the shelter of the hill lost we were assaulted by heavy horizontal drizzle directly in the face, the wind buffeting, my glasses became useless and were stuffed into my back pocket, I as now squinting into the darkness, my casquet doing little to keep the driven drizzle out my eyes as the drop towards Alston began; the mist thickened, visibility dropped to a few meters as the speed rose with gravity.

Houses on the Moss in Daylight

The mist eased and houses appeared to our side as Gargill and then Alston arrived, the late night control finding began as we threaded our way down the tarred line in the cobbles, no ATM at the Co-Op, an uninviting looking chain pub, the Cumberland hotel, no location of the receipt from the SPAR ATM.

As we pondered what to do I spotted a couple of walkers huddled under the eaves of the Spar, 2 other walkers passed on the other side of the road; I asked them if they were on some sort of event; turns out there's a form of Long Distance walking of suspiciously similar format; it was their National 100 miler taking place in these hills, that explained the "Heart of Scotland LDWA".

We retreated to the Cumberland, in the porch I spotted a CTC Enamel Plaque "10,000 Miles" with a map of a route on Great Britain, we caught last orders with seconds to spare; the inhabitants were a welcoming sort and we sat for a while drinking coke while head torches passed in the dankness of night.

Falling light on the climb back over Yad Moss

With the blustery headwind and the rain the descent out of Alston didn't offer the speed it promised, we both needed to eat and I mentioned a good shelter I'd spotted at Hallbankgate; it offered an open doorway facing the wind but two good windward windows and two side along with a good sized wooden bench provided a perfect spot to sit and eat cake and no doubt snooze.

But there's no time for such luxuries as a snooze on a tough 400 and we were back out into the wind, the rain was gone for now, the gentle descent to Longtown after Brampton is usually good for a bit of speed, and we were soon on the road to Gretna Services, with 3 route options through town we took the Springfield route that avoided the town centre and took us straight into Gretna Green; a wedding reception was in full swing in the hotel, and Robbie commented on how what was once a target for young couples from England eloping from dissenting parents (who were often hot on their heels to stop the unwanted tryst) to take advantage of Scots law.

We stopped at the services to use the facilities and I was badly in need of a chamois creme top up. I made the mistake of putting my head down on the table for a minute, Robbie woke me when he returned, I was groggy I needed a couple more... An hour after we arrived we were on our way again, the uninspiring B7076 taking us to the more salubrious services of Johnstone Bridge, and most importantly of all, we were in time for a McDonalds breakfast.  We stayed long enough to eat our pancakes and crack on, the climb of Beattock summit starts here but we turned off into Moffat, another control with only the ATM to dish out a receipt, day was waking slowly, no drunks were around to shout abuse from a window.  I normally find the ride out to the foot of the Grey Mare's Tale "Annoying" but the waking world provided distractions, the scenery was again visible and birds played their morning songs, although Moffatdale was dry Black Hope teased us with black clouds ahead as the dale teased us with it's rising and falling.

On the tail in the misty morning

Finally the Grey Mare's Tail car park arrived, no camper vans or tents this morning, but a handful of cars scattered around, their occupants no doubt asleep under canvas in the hills.  The final climb isn't hard, a slow drag up a narrow valley and then at last the top it had just gone 8am.
This descent I now know so well, not a plummet by any means but a good fast descent on a wide road, the Borders side being of considerably better quality than the Dumfries. Life was present as we passed the café at St Mary's loch, we'd even talked of stopping for breakfast at the Gordon Arms, but we carried on the flattest route to Selkirk.

The sun was out and the skies clearing, the hard nights work was nearly over as we crossed the Tweed at Sunderland Hall, the small matter of 54m of climbing over Gala Hill was all that was left to do, the clock ticked past 25 hours as I approached the summit but we'd made it, Over the Hill, and Back.

I've got to thank Robbie for sticking with me after the first control, even though it meant he wasn't riding at his natural pace, an extra challenge that I know affected his riding, with the low number of riders and the AAA hilly nature I'd have spent the night in tough conditions pretty much alone as it was really only the tough riders that eat hills and rain for breakfast and those who had left their PBP 400 qualifier to the last weekend that took the start, hopefully I'll find a good group of slower climbing riders on my AAA 600 though out there the scenery is accompaniment enough!

The Great North Road - 18/19th May 2019

The advertisement for this ride advised

"This ride will be for you if you like: bridges, canals, cooling towers, mostly flat roads and lots of pretty churches. This ride may not be for you if you don't like: village hall controls, the occasional A-road stretch but mostly quiet lanes, Yorkshire, and bridges. There are a lot of bridges."

That was me sold, oh and the 0.5% climbing rate, I liked the sound of that novelty.

Auld Alliance - 26th and 27th April 2019

A gun shot rings in my ears, waking me with a start, another goes off shortly afterwards. It's still raining outside the bus stop that I've propped myself in the corner of, avoiding the water dripping through the gap between the roof slabs.

My first thought is how long I've been here? I get up and look at my average speed, it's still well above 15kmh good to know or perhaps not, after all sleeping past the time limit would be the easy way out now.

I'm soaked through but still warm and feel much more awake than when I sat down, it's time to crack on.

Easter Arrow - 19th/20th April 2019

The simplest description of this ride I can think of is to call it a 24hr Team Time Trial in Audax form.

More specifically, you put together a team of between 3 and 5 riders, devise a route of over 360km (15kmh minimum speed) based on shortest distance between the controls you set, on a route that ultimately leads towards York and then ride it; if you are ahead of time you need to have suitable extension controls ready to up your distance by no more than 20%, or you could hang around at your penultimate control situated over 25km away from your finish control (although not too long) to ensure you meet the requirement of riding 25km in the last 2 hours, if you're down on distance you need to be within 20% of your declared distance, and finally 3 of the riders must finish for the team result and for the finishers in the team to be validated.  Confused? Complicated? Aye me an aw!

I was tempted by an Arrow partly due to it being a requirement for the Audax UK Brevet 5000 and 25000 and ACP 5000 and 10000 awards, but mostly because it's a very different beast from the other types of Audax UK rides and I liked the idea. Robbie was also interested.

At the Yorkshire Grit ride back in February Aiden Hedley was riding with a "Arrow Team Wanted" poster on the back of his jersey and at the Arivée Steve Scott of the Lakes Velo team was hunting around for up to 3 more riders to join the Lakes Velo Arrow team for this years arrow.  A brief discussion was followed up by e-mail from Steve and we had a team together.

Paul Revell had decided to take a year off captaining the team so Steve was getting to grips with the rules in the role of team captain with Paul's assistance when required. We agreed to target a reasonable points distance of 426km on a route of around 440km of riding however this was soon whittled down just over 430km with a bit of tidying up of the route plan.

I darted out of work at 4pm on the Thursday afternoon to get home and changed for the journey south, my packing and repacking done in advance to keep my time comfortable.  At Dundee station a friend from the hiking club got off the train with her bike, unfortunately confusing the guard into thinking we were trying to overload the bike spaces, thankfully after some prompting he saw that the space I had booked was free and I got on, had I missed this train it would have been an expensive taxi to Glasgow or a long drive south. Neither of us had eaten before getting the train and for all Glasgow has to offer, when you've got a bike and 50 minutes between trains about the only location that is suitable to eat is the Glasgow Central Burger King, which is distinctly average.

We arrived at Steve's just after 10pm and after socializing settled in for the night, I opted for the motorhome as it suited me best, I'm used to the sort of cushions used and need a fairly solid bed, I also reckoned on getting woken by the dawn. With our start planned for 9am there was time for a leisurely awakening and breakfasting. As hoped I woke early and naturally as the dawn light streamed into the motorhome helping me avoid my normal morning sluggishness.
Steve prepared a cracking breakfast of Porridge, Eggs and Toast to set us up for the day.

Ready to set off

Paul and Aiden were ready for us at Asda when we rolled in well before 9am allowing for a chat and relaxed collection of Brevedence.
I had got dressed for the morning chill but at Asda I adjusted my kit. I could tell it was going to be a much warmer day than forecast, leg and arm warmers were off Robbie remarking on how pale my "Peely Wally" Scottish skin is, he's so used to riding with me when the weather calls for wrapping up.
For the first time this year I was coating my arms with sun cream.

Riding on the flat of the Fylde

At 9 we rolled out of the car park and set off south for Lytham, it'd been a long time since I'd ridden in a group with the mentality required for staying in the group so it took me a few minutes to get the hang of things again. The hardest mentally was getting positioned behind Aiden on the trike, an activity that was new to me, stay too far back and you'll not get any assistance, get too close to the cassette in the middle of the rear axle and you'll be half-wheeling between the wheels. Aiden and Robbie would be setting the pace for most of the ride, pumping out the necessary speed so getting the hang of this was critical to staying on.

On the road

Although Good Friday is a Bank Holiday in England the roads were not as busy as I was expecting, the surfaces in Cumbria were fantastic but deteriorated as we entered Lancashire. We whizzed towards Lytham on flat or descending roads some of which I remembered from BGB. There weren't too many distractions from the task in hand, only the Cartford bridge and Singleton Fire Engine shed were if much interest to me along the way.





We had split the GPS route into the segments between controls which meant we could focus on each one individually, seeing there is 20km to go to Lytham is much nicer than 410km to York when you're thinking about Lytham and York is another 20 hours away, this also meant that when I was struggling I could only see how far until the next rest, ideal of the mental aspects of the ride.
As we rode into Lytham a 3-way roadwork light controls halted our progress briefly just before the control, however we were targeting a 25kmh average for this section and had exceeded 27kmh, a very good start to the day that we wanted to maintain, the schedule said we were to take a 30 minute break before setting off again.

Lunch Al Fresco at Lytham Booths

As part of ride preparation Steve had scoped out the café at Booths in advance and rejected it as a stop option due to service time.
So we raided the lunch food section of the supermarket instead, in the heat and with the effort expended already I wasn't thinking straight enough to work out the £3 meal deal so ended up spending double that instead on a Sweet Chilli Chicken wrap and a mince and pea Samosa. 
We sat out in the sun next to the bikes to eat, watch comedy parking and speak to some curious locals.



In what seemed like no time the 30 minutes were up and we set off again but had a longer delay at the traffic lights as we chose different methods of dodging round them, the one that involved pushing the bike across the active arm of the 3 way light sequence was the slowest, pushing along the pavement was fastest, but no-one thought to ride on the adjacent cycle track, although it was packed with pedestrians. Once past the blockage we were back out on the same roads we arrived on until Lancaster.
After Lancaster we turned inland and started to climb towards Kirkby Lonsdale, our pace was still as hot as the day was becoming and Paul dropped back from the front to suggest to Steve that we stop early at Devils Bridge.

Teal Bugatti Type 35, based on the Bugatti Type 35 race car

The roads were becoming more interesting both in terrain and what we were sharing them with, the warm weather bringing out classic cars including a Teal "Bugatti" Type 35 and lots of motorcyclists who had, along with many others congregated at the bridge where an Ice Cream van and a burger van had set up stall, curiously a man in full winter cycling kit spent the entire time we were there standing in the doorway of the burger van while we tried to eat our ice creams before they melted. 10 mins elapsed and we were back on the road heading for our next control at Sedberg, the road climbed gently along here with the odd bump and interesting roadside feature to distract from the relentless heat and pace.

Heading for Sedberg

We arrived at Sedberg about 45 minutes ahead of schedule and stopped at the Spar for the planned 30 minutes, I took another wrap this time Chicken Tikka, some coke and a pack of two lemon drizzle cakes, as I prepared to fill my water bottles up I realized I'd made a mistake and had only packed enough powder for 400km at my winter drinking rate of 750ml per 50km.
I was rapidly going through liquid due to the heat, I switched my drink plan, using a half portion in each bottle, as the stages were roughly 80km apart I reckoned this would suit and the lower dilution would make it easier to drink regularly with food than the normal mixture does.

Climbing Garsdale

The problem with starting on the North West coast of England is you have to get over the Pennines, our chosen route over to the Vale of York was to climb Garsdale and descend Wensleydale to our next control at Ripon; the schedule allowed for 19kmh arriving at 2200.
The road out of Sedberg towards Hawes was used in Paul's "Brant and Slape" a tough day out where this road was the start of a long descent towards Kendal that took us from being Full Value to comfortably in time. Robbie commented on the scenery, the descent although steady is fast enough for focus to be on the road not the surroundings, the climb gentle enough that you can look around you.

I've also been over this road before in the car, not long after I passed my driving test, Dad decided I should get "some" motorway driving practice and we set off at silly AM to drive to the Classic Car Show at the NEC in Birmingham.
Having spent all day driving motorways and visiting the SAAB Owners Club stand (Dad was chairman at the time) we set off home via Hawes where Dad wanted to scope out the caravan site as he fancied stopping there for our next family holiday the drop from 10 lane motorway to twisty 2 lane single carriageway resulted in us swapping seats in the car for the drive into Hawes before we switched back so I could drive us out to the A1 route home.

Climbing Garsdale

Garsdale is a good long climb with a couple of steep ramps, though these didn't trouble us much, and as a bonus the surroundings are pretty, just after Garsdalehead the viaduct came into view and as we passed under the Settle and Carlisle railway and into the East Riding of Yorkshire we also crossed the summit of Garsdale into Wensleydale, a short descent towards the Moorcock Inn where a Half Cab bus had stopped was followed by a stiff climb before we'd start to get the main benefits of the descent.

The Moorcock, soon we'll be descending

Descending Wensleydale

We were now over our only real hill of the day, the undulating descent of Wensleydale that we were pre-warned of was presented to us with the occasional steep ramp that briefly dropped our progress into single digits. I was suffering from the heat of the day with the first signs of a dehydration head-ache and the water I had was barely enough to get to Ripon at the drinking rate. We stopped at Wensley by the church to adjust our set-ups for the onset of night, warmers and lights were fitted to bodies and bikes in preparation, for now it was still warm and light but it wouldn't be by the time we got to Ripon.


I took the chance to take a pee but there wasn't much there adding to my dehydration concerns. We knew once the sun was gone it would get cold quickly, at 7pm we rode through Masham, past the Black Sheep Brewery with the temperature now down to 12c from the mid-twenties it had reached only an hour or so earlier.
We reached Ripon McDonald's in the cold dark at quarter to 9, 1 hour 15mins ahead of schedule, our average over the dale was 23kmh considerably better than the 19 that had been allowed for. 


Riders from a VC167 team were there nearing the end of their control rest there, Audaxers have a look about them so although were in a hodge podge of kit they identified straight off that we were riding the Arrow too, Aiden is a VC167 rider so he socialized with them most before they got on their way.

Brief stop at Wensley for a quick snack
and switch to night set ups

My dehydration concerns were proven but I didn't respond to this properly.
I bought a large bottle of water from the co-op garage to top up my bottles with while waiting for my McDonald's meal to arrive as it proved considerably cheaper, but I didn't take in enough extra during the stop.  I had a beef burger meal but stuck with a coke for the drink.
We stayed the planned 45 minutes, before cracking on for Selby, the big digs were behind us, the route a rolling descent into the flatlands, through the dark night, Knarseborough, Wetherby, Tadcaster and Cawood briefly punctuating the darkness, the odd boy racer darting past in a hurry to go nowhere.

Ripon McDonalds
Steve's on the Ice Cream

Selby McDonalds: 10 past midnight, 24kmh.Scheduled : 0215, 22kmh
We were building up a good time cushion, not that I knew it, this information I didn't need or want to know.
I get more proof that I'm dehydrated despite emptying 1.5L of liquid into me in less than 4 hours.
I tuck into another McDonalds meal, I go for a Chicken Legend this time, I'm struggling to eat it but I go back for a chocolate muffin because I know I need it, I really wanted an apple pie but didn't order it with the meal and need something quick to buy.
I have coke left in my cup that I can't drink now so I put it in one of the bottles, the cool air and impact of going so long means I'm getting into the territory of stopping for a pee every 5 minutes. I've hit this during 24hr MTB rides in the past, that's fine when riding solo with a good cushion but in a team that's aiming to press on I just have to ride with a filling bladder, it also doesn't help with hydration.



We spend 38 minutes stopped, but were only scheduled for 30, arguably we're slacking now.
It's flat, being able to draft another ride is critical on the flat, it can be the difference between battering along in Zone 4 at 25kmh and ticking along in Zone 2 at 40kmh. I'm tall for a cyclist.
In a sport that favours the those of shorter stature the problem with being tall is that you can't hide in other riders draft so well;

Ripon

I once entered the Etapé Loch Ness and spent the long flat A82 section along the loch leading a train of riders at a rapid pace towards Fort Augustus. I was flicking my elbow regularly begging someone to give me a break only to find no one coming though much to my irritation, I battered on for my own aim of a fast metric.
When we reached the climb up Glen Doe a mass of midgets split round me and disappeared into the distance as I struggled, grinding away in the granny ring.
I did however catch many of them on the descent back to Inverness, they all tagged on for the lift back to the finish. Only two of them thanked me for the tows at the end.

The other side of this coin does occasionally happen and on one Mukyz Club 100 mile road ride I was placed in the "fast" group with 6' 5" Mark in it, he led us most of the way round the route at a ridiculous rate and on arriving at the Vane Farm junction he was too knackered to stay on the front and I swapped places with him for the last leg back to Glenrothes, this is the only time I've ever seen the fabled 30bpm HR drop between being on the front and drafting.

Riding in the dying light of day

The ride to Scunthorpe was relatively speaking easy, the novelty of the flatness was difficult for me, I've never ridden only 90m of climb in 50km before, even my flat route at home records over 200m in 27km giving the odd easy descent section to rest between efforts. Although I was behind Robbie or Aiden most of the way I was feeling the South Easterly on my head so I wasn't getting full advantage of the draft and shelter. I tried to get low enough on the bike to stay in the void punched into the air in front of me but my belly got in the way, I also can't cover the brakes from the drops well thanks to the same issue that means Lisa Simpson will never be a Professional Saxamophone player, in a group you need to be covering your brakes.

Night Riding

As we hurtled through the darkness in the distance Drax lit up the sky, capable of feeding up to 4MW of electricity into the National Grid, it's a reminder that in some parts of the world Coal is still King though now only a backup power source for when Nuclear and Renewables can't cope, the England and Wales grid is on a record run of days without using this backup, since closing Longannet there is no coal based generation at all, any from Drax or Fiddlers Ferry would be labelled as "Imported".

At the road side a sign proclaims that we've left Yorkshire and entered Lincolnshire, we start to cross many bridges.  The roads are long, flat and straight, more over-tuned hot hatches blast past, their engine lives and suitability reduced by race level tuning, the whiff of over rich exhaust gasses perfume the air as a Fiesta flies past with it's exhaust crackling with a fuel mix best described as excessive. Whoever set these cars up must have failed Tuning 101, unburnt fuel doesn't equate to more oomph.

Scunthorpe McDonalds
I can't face another burger

Scunthorpe McDonalds: 0232;
Scheduled Time: 0415

We've been 22 minutes slower than scheduled, despite this we're still well ahead of schedule.
I can't face another burger, I've had beef and I've had chicken, I forget about the Fillet O' Fish option, doesn't everyone?

Aiden is trying to convince the manager to let him buy a pot of porridge, unlike at previous stops where the request has been granted it's not happening this time. I can only face a punnet of fries and Apple pie, however I've got my hydration back to a satisfactory state at last.


Paul presses us on into the darkness, it's another short flat run now, only 40km to Goole but I'm approaching my natural sleep time and the yawns are concerning. 
We set out at 0310, if I'm up late this is the time I'm usually asleep by, I can feel I'm going to struggle until daylight.
Robbie however isn't suffering from the dozies at all this time and I can see he's still going strong.

Bridge in Wensleydale near Middleham

We ride back out of town the way we came in before splitting for Crowle, ahead we spot the unmistakable sight of a mass of rear bike lights.  I perceive a quickening of the pace as we ride up the gentle hill into the town, in the centre we hurtle past what appears to be two teams worth of riders moving slowly.
A brief pee stop just out of town and I'm convinced I can see their lights coming up the road behind, forgetting it's a long flat straight and they could be a mile or more away I wonder if they'll catch us.  There isn't much to do along here other than hang on to the group, any sights of interest hidden by the darkness of night.

The 'umber bridge lights up the sky in the distance as we ride through the marshes between the Trent and Ouse, we reach the Don on the way into Goole, the teams we passed haven't caught us.
I could say the river here is a bit like the Danube in Vienna, it's been split into a river and a canal, but that's all it has in common with Wien.
We cross the two lifting bridges and enter town.  The GPS route tells us to go right at a junction, Paul, navigating off a route sheet is convinced it should be left. We go right and leave Goole reaching a junction that we shouldn't be at yet.  A quick discussion and we work out the fastest route to the services, we've wasted distance and nearly missed the control, the route we take is the one we would have taken to get to the junction from the services, we'll soon be back here.

Garsdalehead Viaduct on the Settle and Carlisle line

We go to the Spar in the petrol station, the McDonalds "dingied" this time of which I'm thankful as I really can't face another McDonald's and it's too early for the breakfast menu to inject some variety.
Robbie and Aiden want to use facilities which aren't present in the petrol station and end up there anyway, they return reporting about 6 teams worth of riders splashed out, sleeping or eating.
It's 0440 and we're now 37km from York.  The teams sleeping here will almost certainly sleep to 6am and then ride the 37km to York in the last 2 hours in order to meet the 25km requirement. I can hardly face eating anything,

I stagger around the aisles of the Petrol Station Spar looking for something that I'm willing to eat and leave with a water bottle top up, a bottle of cherry coke that mostly went in the water bottle and a couple of bars of chocolate.  This was a mistake.

The sky starts to lighten

We ride out of Goole Services, Steve and Paul are on the back as Aiden and Robbie take turns on the front, I'm hanging on between them as best I can.  The discussion behind me is about the route to take to extend. In front of me there is no discussion, the locomotives of the team continue their pedal mashing.

We've got 4 hours to go, and in the last 2 we must do 25km, there's no way we're slowing to a crawl for 2 hours.  Steve and Paul have scoped out routes in advance and know exactly where we'll get a photo for the 22hr control that'll also show the start of our extension leg.

Dawn at last
A cold mist hangs on the fields and in the dips in the road
Chilling us to the bone as we drop
Warming us as we rise

It's still dark but I can see the darkness of night lifting from the sky, the dark blue of night slowly lightening. As we roll into dips where the cold air is trapped, we#re chilled to the bone despite the warmer night wear, it's probably below freezing at the bottom. Climbing out of the dips we feel the temperature rise significantly only to repeat the process as we go.
The sun rises while a light mist envelopes us, hanging low over the fields and road.
We cross the York bypass and enter Fulford just before 0620, it's only 3km to York City Centre but this is our 22hr control, originally planned for Goole at 0630, we're 34km ahead of schedule.

Riding into the daylight

We have 2hrs 40mins for our extension of 45km to Sherburn in Elmet and back; I have no idea it's this long not the route on my Wahoo but I'm told there's shops at the turn and thanks to my fueling error at Goole I need them, Gels have to do the job for now.

I'm at my most tired, despite the strengthening daylight, I try to hang onto Aiden, Robbie's behind me, I'm struggling to keep in line with the cassette on the trike, my tired eyes make me feel like I'm bouncing between his wheels, fearing it's going to go wrong I drop back, swing out and ask Robbie to go in front, thankfully I can hold his wheel better in this state.

The road looks and feels like it's a perpetual 1% gradient, the world is getting brighter and warmer all the time. A swing bridge appears ahead in a town whose name I recognize but in my tired state I can't think why, I'm sure we've been through a Cawood already as we cross our earlier route at a cross roads. I don't see much more than the wheel in front and the road seemingly rising ahead, I need to focus on them to keep going.
A town starts suddenly with an industrial estate, Paul shouts to turn left at the lights and pick a shop, Spar or Tesco.  I've not even made it off the bike at the Spar before Robbie exists and crosses the road to Tesco, the words "15 minutes for hot baked foods" was mentioned in the process. 
I wander through Tesco, tired not quite figuring out what I want, there's no baked goods here either, I coudl go a sausage roll. I spy a pack of two Cream Slices, Robbie reminds me I need to be careful with Dairy, I tell him that right now I don't care, they'll get me to the finish even if I'm doubled in pain on the train

Crossing The Swing Bridge in Cawood

We're ready to set off before 0740, there 25km to go until breakfast and we have 1hr 20mins to do it in.
It's mostly down hill, the sun is up, the Cream Slices have given me an epic sugar high and I've got a bottle of Cherry Coke as well as energy drink to top up the sugar rush, both with added Caffeine.
Suddenly I'm awake again.  We're riding faster than on the way out, back through Cawood and over the bridge, past York Marina, and we're back at Fulford, we've got 23 minutes to do the last 3km, the last hours happened so fast I can hardly believe it was that long.

One of the VC167 teams

The into York feels like a gentle descent, it's early enough that there isn't too much traffic, I don't know this road or how far there is to go. Suddenly Paul's taken the lead and indicates a tiny gap in the central reserve that allows us to turn onto Picadilly, before I know where I am, I'm trying to figure out how to fit my bike into a space amongst a mass of other bikes without blocking a door in the pub's courtyard.
We've arrived with 20 minutes to spare, time enough to get breakfast ordered for that critical final piece of brevidence.




The pub is heaving with cyclists in various states of knackeredness, although some are looking surprisingly fresh, others clearly show signs of a day and night on the bike.
I still can't face a full meal, so opt for pancakes instead of the cooked breakfast that everyone else tucks into, I'll get my fry up later.

3/5th of Equipe Stravaiging with Robbie

It was an utterly epic ride, a cracking route for making progress while still having scenic interest.

Thanks to Steve and Paul for letting me be on their team, designing the route, setting the schedule (which we smashed) and keeping me going when I was struggling mainly by sitting behind me to make sure I didn't drift back and by reminding me to stay on the wheel. Aiden and Robbie did a fantastic job smashing that pace out all day and night.




It's been so long since I rode in a group, and so long since I set out to ride in a group that I wasn't sure I could ride at group pace at all, my normal Audax pace and strategy being around 20kmh and just letting groups go by riding at my own pace.
This ride really opened my eyes to what I'm capable of; I used to be able to push 25 to 30kmh moving averages on shorter routes but had thought I'd lost it with spending so much time pootling along.
Clearly it's still there I just need to dig it out.

Finished in time for Breakfast

We won't know exactly how we or others did until validations come through later in the year, we rode 477km on the road; our declared distance before extension was 426km, and we think we should get the full 45km for the extension as it appears to be the shortest route, making 471km.
Not bad, Eh!

Total Distance Ridden: 477.6Km
Time Taken: 23:40
Average Speed: 20.18Kmh
Moving Time: 19:30
Moving Average: 24.5Kmh
Estimated Energy Used: 13432Kcal