I wanted an early start so I could get distance done today. I was getting used to instant porridge for breakfast but cold rice pudding was a new dish and was pretty damned good! I had also washed my bib shorts overnight and found a use for a hairdryer. Those of you who know me will understand that I normally have no use for a hairdryer…
The streets were empty and glistening with the overnight rain as I set off.
As was always the case the first 20 or more kilometres sped by. This is never the case at the end of a day when the last 20km seem to take forever.
I was heading for Donegal and would be passing through Sligo where I had been on a walking holiday only the year before.
But before I got to Sligo I heard the dreaded hiss of a puncture and pulled over to inspect the rear tyre. I leant the bike against a wall and could see sealant bubbling up. A woman emerged on the drive to the house I was stopped outside. She invited me onto the drive to fix my puncture and then insisted on bringing me coffee and freshly baked scones with butter and jam.
Meanwhile I was reaching into my tool bag to find some plugs for the puncture as it wasn’t sealing. I searched in vain. I had no plugs and remembered putting them out at home to put into the tool bag…..
What I did have was some superglue and a patch for my airbed. I smeared glue over the hole and applied the patch. It sealed the puncture. I inflated the tyre with the electric pump. It held.
MacGyver: make or repair (an object) in an improvised or inventive way, making use of whatever items are at hand.
This repair held for the next 500km and beyond. In fact I have done nothing to it since I got home!
What I did want was to lay my hands on some plugs just in case it didn’t hold. A quick Google search revealed a bike shop which would be open in Sligo at 10am. I got there about 20minutes before it was due to open and waited.
At 10am someone turned up.
“Have you got any tubeless plugs?” “I don’t think so, but let’s look”. My heart sank then rose as he found a pack on the counter!
Just as I was leaving another rider rolled in to get his rear tyre replaced as it had worn right down.
Confidence restored I pushed on past Yeats resting place and the mountains I had been clambering over a year before.
The weather started to perk up and I spotted a little cafe in Kinlough where I ordered a delicious wrap and chips and coffee – the first hot meal I had sat down for in a while.
I have memories of a road trip with my mother and brother up to Donegal and to visit the town where my mother’s family had come from. What I hadn’t seen were the spectacular beaches along the coast.
There were some pretty stiff climbs through Donegal and the route was ‘undulating’. By the end of the day I would have nearly 3000m of climbing.
This was Glengesh pass which took me nearly an hour to climb and was about 200km into the day’s riding.
Someone had asked me earlier in the day where I planned to stop and I replied “I’ll ride and decide”. I had made my mind up to push as far into the evening as I could and bivvy for the night. The forecast looked good and it meant I didn’t have to worry about finding somewhere to stay. Even at 10pm it was still light.
Eventually I found somewhere beside the road where I could roll out my bivvy bag. First I had to liberally cover my head with Smidge as the midges were a nightmare. I slid into my sleeping bag, lay down and was asleep pretty quickly. It had been a long and challenging day but I was still on course to finish in 7 days.
As I write this up, some weeks later, I look at the record of the ride on Strava and see that I started at 5.22am. It wasn’t until I had done about 50km that I took my first photograph two and a half hours later.
Now, I reflect that I was so into the ride that I was not prepared to stop. I just wanted to keep moving. On the first day I rode for 12hrs 33m. My elapsed time was 13hrs 50m. The previous day I rode for 14hrs and stopped for less than 2hrs. I was eating on the bike and only stopping to resupply or maybe grab a pie or a sandwich and a coffee. I wasn’t moving particularly fast but like the tortoise I was keeping up with some of the hares. I only realised that later as I never look at Dotwatcher when I am racing. maybe I should but I feel it would make little difference. I just need to ride the ride I ride. if I started to chase others I would probably burn out or get despondent.
Today I had to catch a ferry at Tarbert. As I turned the corner and the slipway came into sight so did the ferry and it was pulling in.
Other riders (the hares) had been waiting a while so I was really lucky with my timing. There was even a little booth selling coffee on the ferry.
The weather was a bit mixed but good for riding. There was the obligatory stop for hot food at a petrol station late morning.
The coastline we were riding is drenched in history. There are memorials on the route to the Spanish Armada. Spanish Point was named after the Spanish who died here in 1588, when many ships of the Spanish Armada were wrecked during stormy weather. Those who escaped from their sinking ships and made it safely to land were later executed by Sir Turlough O’Brien of Liscannor and Boethius Clancy, High Sheriff of Clare.
It was not known by the English authorities in Ireland whether the Spanish sailed this way around Ireland because their ships were damaged and the storm prevented them from sailing back the quick way or if it was part of a Spanish plan to invade Ireland.As news of the English victory had not reached William FitzWilliam, the Lord Deputy of Ireland, he had issued a blanket command that all Spanish found in Ireland were to be executed with their ships and treasure seized. The executed Spanish were buried in a mass grave in an area of Spanish Point known locally as Tuama Na Spáinneach (Tomb of the Spaniards). Despite this, there was no archaeological evidence for the claim until 2015 when a group of historians investigating the location of the wreck of San Marcos stated they had found a mass grave under Spanish Point which contained the bodies of the executed Spanish sailors. [cc Wikipedia]
The landscape also changed and I was now cycling through the Burren with its karst landscape of bedrock incorporating a vast cracked pavement of glacial-era limestone, with cliffs and caves, fossils, rock formations and archaeological sites. [cc Wikipedia]
It was here Fergus used his drone to capture me cycling through this landscape. A video I will treasure. At one moment a large coach passes me yet I have no recollection of any traffic!
I was about to turn east and ride towards Checkpoint 2. This was located at at a farm run by a cousin of Adrian’s, Anne. Anne had insisted he route the riders there so she could meet them and look after them. It was pretty flat until the Francis Gap which had a section of 18% climb. Then down toward Duniry and the farm – pretty much in the middle of nowhere.
There were bikes littering the courtyard and riders milling about or asleep in various rooms. Anne thrust a large paper cup of hot soup in my hand and exhorted me to have some soda bread and butter, biscuits, fruit cake, bananas, tea and anything else I could lay my hands on in the kitchen! Meanwhile Adrian swopped my tracker as it had stopped working properly.
There were two riders asleep in the room Anne showed me to and a spare mattress for me. I got a quick shower and then snuggled into my sleeping bag. At midnight, the other two got up and headed off into the night. I rolled over and slept until the morning.
It was easy enough to roll out of bed as the ‘nerves’ got me up. I shuffled round to the kitchen/dining area and made myself some instant coffee and instant porridge. Final packing done, including discarding some of the extra ‘off bike clothes’ I thought I might take, and then lugging the bike and my rucksack downstairs and out into the courtyard. It was wet. I put my bag on the van hoping to see it again in Derry and set off to find the two working men.
Riders accumulated and milled around, front and rear lights gleaming. The Turn cycling gang managed to gather for a last picture of us all together in Ireland. Paul, Annie, Si and myself.
Then everyone gathered in front of the stage for group photos and a rousing ribald song based on Sweet Molly Malone with the chorus “Fuck it, I’ll do it, I’ll die in a tent”. Adrian had managed to inveigle a participant into singing the verses and roused everyone of us to sing along to the chorus.
And then it was time for the off.
The early start meant we missed the traffic in Cork. The first hill kicked in pretty quickly and was a taster of many to come. They say that comparison is the thief of joy but that depends on the comparison. of course I made note of all the riders who seemed to be carrying about half of what was on my bike but I also noted other riders who carried even more than I had! The first hill began to string the riders out and soon there was plenty of space between us and the other three Turn cyclists disappeared into the distance.
I was looking forward to going through Kinsale and evoking memories of our honeymoon some 36 years previously. To be honest it looked vaguely familiar but I was soon through and out the other side.
It was a misty morning and the temperature made wearing a jacket worthwhile. I was heading out to Clonakilty and a rendezvous nearby with Mike, my old school friend, who I had seen only a few weeks earlier in Plymouth walking with more of my school friends. He arrived armed with bananas which were to be a welcome change from the sweet carbs I had stuffed into my food pouches on the front of the bike.
The morning was shrouded in mist but the roads were quiet and the kilometres ticked by riding along the coast.
Checkpoint 1 was at Mizen Head at 145km. Adrian had picked this as an early CP so if anyone had tracker issues they could be sorted out which seemed eminently sensible.
Apparently there is a really good view from Mizen Head.
What there was, was some excellent seafood chowder and soda bread and a big pot of tea.
The next headland was Sheeps Head Drive and consisted on an in and out alongside Ballyroon mountain. It was steep climb up to yet another mist shrouded viewpoint.
The dead end U-turn was to feature more than once on the route and invariably involved a stiff climb. By now I had done 200km and was plotting where to stop for the night. Bantry looked about right and I used Booking.com to secure a room at the Westlodge Hotel. On arrival I had to store my bike in the ballroom and there were already a couple of other bikes there. The joy of Tailfin kit is it is so easy to detach from the bike and headed up to my room with just what was needed.
After a quick shower I headed for the bar and a plate of stir fried chicken noodles and a sticky toffee pudding. There was an American who had diverted to Bantry from Dunmanus cutting off the loop out to Sheeps Head Drive which he was planning to do the next day. He made good company while we ate and I was in awe of his account of doing the Tour Divide. I had got to the hotel about 7.30 after riding for twelve and a half hours and covering 236km. I’m not sure I had managed to replenish the 6k of calories burnt but I placed an order for a continental breakfast at 4.30am and went to bed.
The Fred Whitton is a classic sportive through the Lake District organised every year since 1999 in memory of the secretary of the Lakes Road club who died aged 50. I have done it once before in 2017 and remember it for ‘bonking’ not far from the finish and then finding a snack pack of Haribos in my back pocket that someone had given me near the start. They had an immediate restorative effect.
I entered and got a place through the ballot for this year. It meant I would be taking on two challenging rides within a week of each other. London Wales London and then the Fred. I was quietly pleased that my recovery from LWL seemed to go well and on the Saturday morning I did my pre race warm up which Niel Copeland, my coach, had put into my training plan. It wasn’t a doddle and boosted my confidence that I still had ‘legs’.
I was aiming to get to Grasmere to register on the Saturday, then set up camp at Rydal Hall before driving over to see an old friend who has a house near Coniston What I wasn’t expecting was to get a message from an ex work colleague with a photo from the event saying it had reminded him of me. Nor did I expect to find him and another ex colleague camping on the same pitch as me at Rydal! It was great fun to catch up.
Getting to and through Ambleside was slow work because of the traffic but my plan came together and I had my number and tag for the ride and the tent set up.
The weather was stunning so I wasn’t too worried the way I pitched the tent wasn’t exactly perfect…. (memo: must practice pitching better).
Google maps unexpectedly took me over Wrynose pass to get to Alistair’s. I definitely prefer doing it on a bike than in a car!
Alistair is a doctor as well and has got involved in the local mountain rescue team. He is in fact part goat as evidenced by his sorties up the climbs around him in the Lakes on foot and bike.
After a lovely dinner and catch up I headed back, avoiding Wrynose, to get some sleep.
Up at 4.30am to brew coffee, munch hot cross buns and pack everything up. Despite setting off around 5.30am there was slow traffic on the short drive to the start and I joined a very long queue of people 15min before the start.
The climbing kicks off with Kirkstone Pass which came up on my Garmin as the longest climb. I had no illusions about smashing it and had been advised to take it steady early on. It also meant I could really enjoy the weather and views.
I was passed by a constant stream of riders, some in chain gangs of 4 or 5, powering their way up the climbs. I suppressed the urge to latch on and paced myself, consuming multiple Rice Krispie Chocolate Squares, gels and Haribos. There would be no boring this time!
There were two feed stations on the route and I was hoping for some non-sugary food but all I could get at the first were some bananas and nut bars. I did manage to grab half a tuna sandwich at the second but maybe I should have stopped somewhere to get myself a pavement picnic. I definitely could have benefited from some coffee.
Honister pass brought back memories from All Points North. I remember getting up the climb and then turning round to ride back to Penrith where I had a room in a Premier Inn. The only night I slept indoors for that event and the only night it rained. It proved to be impossible to ride up it this time as there were cars log jammed on both sides of the road and riders trying to pass were obstructed by others walking up. Mostly the drivers were patient as there were plenty of signs telling them that 2,500 cyclists would be riding up these roads at the time they drove along them…
This time there was no turning back on Honister. I had to press on. Newlands also proved to be a leg tester.
The west coast came into view and I knew I would be turning back East, before long, towards the sting in the tail: Hardknott and Wrynose. I tried to suppress my fear of the climb on Hardknott and continue to enjoy the warmth, the views and the wonderful support given all round the route. There are people manning corners and junctions to make sure you stayed on course safely (there was even one person dedicated to a particularly nasty pothole!), water stops in addition to the food stops and general support from the public. Coming to the top of climbs, like Whinlatter, you would be greeted by cowbells, whistles and shouts of encouragement. It is so motivating.
I was also passing down memory lane as I have had a number of memorable holidays with the family in the Lakes. Turning into Eskdale was especially nostalgic as it is where I have had some fun camping holidays even though I napalmed a toe with melting marshmallow once (there is a stream through the campsite which helped relive the pain).
The road over Hardknott and Wrynose is closed for the event so I was surprised to get passed by a motorcyclist on the road up from Eskdale who subsequently looked very disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to roar up past the struggling stream of cyclists.
Did I ride up? Did I chuff. There has been a new emphasis on ‘durability’ for cycling. As I interpret it, it means can you sustain a hard effort at the end of a long ride as well as at the start. I need to talk to my coach about my durability but, unlike my previous attempt, at least I had SPDs rather than cleats and could push past other riders who were slip sliding on the hot tarmac. To be honest I am not sure I could have ridden up faster than I walked up the really steep bits. Kudos to those who can.
The view back down Eskdale from Honister
Just beyond the Summit of Wrynose I met Alistair who was manning a first aid/mountain rescue point. I blagged a couple of paracetamol off him for a headache I had developed but mainly just to make sure he was made use of 😉
My Garmin registered just one climb left. I crested it to yet another panoramic view and asked one of the crew to take a picture that included me and Gus.
I lost count of the number of times people complimented my bike (and my gearing). It is an incredibly comfortable ride and I am positive enhanced my experience.
Thereafter it was flat or downhill pretty much all the way to the finish where I could cash in my food voucher and devour a delicious pie with mushy peas.
Would I recommend the Fred? Without hesitation but I am grateful to Niel Copeland for helping me commission the bike and give me the training that made it a real pleasure to do. I am also grateful he advised me not to cycle to Plymouth for a walking holiday with friends this week. I would have had to start on the Tuesday to realistically make it for dinner on Thursday. I now know that was a very silly idea!
Audax is a cycling sport in which participants attempt to cycle long distances within a pre-defined time limit. Audax is a non-competitive sport: success in an event is measured by its completion. Audax has its origins in Italian endurance sports of the late nineteenth century, and the rules were formalised in France in the early twentieth century. So Says Wikipedia.
I can’t remember how I found out about it but London Wales London, a 400km Audax, piqued my interest and I entered. I then found out that both my coach and nemesis (Nadine ‘Gotcha’ Ansong) have done it and raved about it.
I needed to get down to Chalfont St Peter and be ready to go at 6am on the Saturday, so I booked a room in an Apartment Hotel just round the corner from the start. Of course Gus played up the week before, as for some reason my SRAM AXS rear derailleur went on the blink and I had to send it away to get it sorted out. So, as punishment, I rigged Gus with nearly everything I would be using on The Trans Atlantic Way in June.
The drive down was easier than I thought it would be on a Bank Holiday Friday. I got the last parking spot in the small courtyard at the back of the hotel and unloaded everything up to my room. Just as I was finishing unloading 3 women arrived with bikes, also doing LWL.
I was nervous and awake by 4.30am. I had bought a pot of porridge with me and some M&S fruity hot cross buns (allegedly the best and they were delicious). What I didn’t realise was that breakfast was available at the start.
The hall was already busy by the time I arrived, registered, got my Brevet card and had a second breakfast.
Liam FitzPatrick, the organiser, called everyone together just before 6am and reiterated his abhorrence of red flashing rear lights. In his informative and witty emails he had warned us of the consequences of having a flashing rear light: Finally, there are reports of roving gangs of zombies in Berkshire and Oxfordshire. They are attracted by flashing red lights and are easily avoided by keeping your rear lights on constant…
At exactly 6am we were off. We had 27 hours to complete the route, including any stopping.
One of the advantages of having a good coach is learning about all the things you can do to make life easier on the bike, not just the physical training. I had downloaded the GPX file of the route and then added in all the relevant points of interest before saving it to my Garmin. It meant I knew exactly how far it was to the first Control Point at Islip. I also marked cafes and garages en route if I needed to refuel (information provided by Liam). Niel, had advised me to get away at the head of the ride and find groups to pace me. This worked really well for the early part of the ride and I was bowling along much faster than I anticipated. Islip came really quickly.
There were three manned control points over the whole route with volunteers serving hot food. First though I got my Brevet card stamped. Third breakfast was a lovely sausage bap and a big mug of tea. The other thing Niel had told me was not to ‘faff’: I stopped for 12 minutes.
My next target was Tewkesbury where I needed to buy something and get a receipt to prove the date and time I had been through it. I joined the big crowd of fellow riders outside Aldi. The chilli chicken wrap was delicious.
Have I mentioned how gorgeous the weather was? Clear blue sky, sunshine and the only drawback was a bit of a headwind but not too severe. There is a neat app which can show you the weather you will experience. It also explains why it felt like there was a headwind on the way out and the way back; because there was!
Ok, so I got a little bit of push out of Wales.
After Tewkesbury there was an ‘information’ control at 186km. For this I had to write down the name of the house opposite a pub. The one vital bit of equipment I forgot to bring was something to write with. I took a photo and was able to borrow a pen when I got to Chepstow which was just beyond the half way mark. First though I had to get over Symonds Yat. This has a 20% section and as I was trying to catch the people who were walking up it one of them said “you should make it, you still have a gear left to go”. Embarrassingly useful feedback.
The route was mainly on quiet roads and wonderful views, including this of Chepstow Castle.
At the Church hall in Chepstow there was a choice of vegetarian or meat chilli. And cake. Although I had my phone on airplane mode for most of the ride (another tip from the coach) I made sure to take advantage of the stops at the manned control points to top it up. This explains the lack of pictures. That and the encroaching fatigue. I was over half way round and looking at the meters climbed, and still to go, believed the worst of the climbing was behind me. Fatigued and deluded.
I stopped for a little over 30minutes to refuel at Chepstow. It was after 5pm and the temperature was dropping. My next aim was to get to Lambourn, another manned control point, where I could also have a short sleep if needed. I had never ridden through the night before. On my first ultra race, All Points North, I had almost crashed when I nearly dozed off on the bike in the early hours. I had bivvied then and I was carrying a sleeping bag just in case I needed it now.
It was time to cross back into England across the wonderful cycle path on the Severn Bridge.
Lambourn was another 100km of riding, full of punchy little hills and a glorious sunset. I got there just after 2am and was so glad of the baked beans on toast and tea. On the bike I have been coached to eat regularly, aiming to get at least 60g of carbs in every hour. This usually means eating stuff like Haribos, Twix, Turkish delight, drinking Coca Cola. I had got so fed up, after hours of riding, with sweet stuff I bought a big packet of digestive biscuits to eat. That was mistake.Memo to self: it is not about enjoying the food, it is about eating the fuel.
By the time I reached Lambourn, I knew where the zombies Liam had warned us about would appear from. I had become one.
I checked out the sleeping area at the control point and mulled over my options. I now had 90km left to do, with a checkpoint at Henley on Thames. There I had to buy something from the 24hour garage and keep the receipt. Earlier on I had stopped to buy my biscuits at a garage and heard the woman behind the counter explain to some people that all the cyclists were doing a ride from London to Wales and back again. As I purchased my goods I told her I had knocked back an espresso from the machine – no charge! There are some very nice people around.
After spending just over half an hour at Lambourn, eating and thinking, I decided to press on. Outside one of the volunteers suggested I wait and ride with a group rather than on my own. Easier said than done as most people surged past me up the hills. I would like to think it was because I had decided to load the bike up with nearly everything I would take on the TAW. Several people, earlier in the day, had made admiring comments about Gus but not about the engine. The temperature had also really dropped and by this time I was wearing leg and arm warmers, a duvet jacket and my rain jacket. One of the advantages of having Gus fully loaded.
Passing through Goring, a little later, I noticed a Church hall with its doors open. It looked like a control point that wasn’t on my list. Then I remembered that my friend, Jerry Clough, was running the Centurion Thames path race from London to Oxford; 100 miles. I stopped and made enquiries. He had passed through about an hour before I got there. Kudos!
Also, another source of zombies?
Having the 24hr garage to aim for at Henley on Thames helped break up the last 90km. Another espresso and the first glimmerings of dawn restored a lot of energy and I pushed on over the last few hills to get back to Chalfont St Peter and the finish.
I presented my Brevet card, receipts and took a photograph of the completed stamps.
It was over. I had done my longest ever ride and for the first time ridden through the night.
The stats:
My thanks go to Niel Copeland for all his coaching and friendship as well as the rest of the Turn Cycling gang. Such a great bunch.
Most of all I have the most wonderful wife who supports me to head off and do all these rides without grumbling ever!
Would I recommend LWL? I now understand why the others raved about it – it is a brilliant event and I would give it five stars.
The hotel breakfast was served at 7.30am. I had woken at 3am with hunger. I had brought a Firepot Porridge and Banana breakfast with me so boiled a kettle, rehydrated it and ate it in the middle of the night before falling back to sleep with my hunger assuaged.
On the Turn Cycling Discord platform there is a thread dedicated to nutrition. I have been trying to up my game and have set an alarm on my Garmin to go off every 30m to remind me to eat something. This trip has made me realise the easiest thing is just to keep eating all the time. If I start a Twix (32.4g of carb) by the time I finish it, it will be time to eat some Haribos (handful = 20g) and then move onto a Turkish delight.
I went back and had a look at some of the blogs I did on my early ultra rides and realised a big theme was constant hunger. In fact, in retrospect, I probably was hypoglycaemic at one point on the 2VS!
The fact some people aim for 90g or 120g of carb an hour flabbergasts me as I find it hard enough to get 60g in. Anyway, I switched to Twix, Turkish Delight, Haribos and Snickers today, which seems to work as my innards were quiescent.
Yet again the views were awesome, the weather perfect and the trails in good condition
The climb up to Stiperstones was brutal, closely followed by one before the descent to Church Stretton.
I watched Guy Kesteven’s YouTube videos of the route after we had done it (doh!). To be honest, if you want to see everything he points out you would have to make a number of diversions. I did enjoy the standing stones and learning about the folklore surrounding them afterwards made more sense, as I probably wouldn’t have remembered owt due to oxygen deprivation at the time I passed them.
Church Stretton had a delightful cafe but looking at the time, the distance still to do and the climbs between me and Shrewsbury on the route meant I decided to leave the three amigos and main road it back in order to catch my train at 4pm. I did giggle when my Garmin flashed up a climb, the only one between Church Stretton and Shrewsbury, which was 590m long with an ascent of 13m….
I made it in good time to have tea and a buttered teacake at the station.
Of course, on the way home, the guard on the Crosscountry train said I should have hung my bike up in the space provided. I suggested he try, given the weight and the handlebar width he agreed it was not possible. He said he would not have let me on the train if he had known. FFS!! When are the railway companies going to stop punishing cyclists?? It’s not the guard’s fault but the area reserved for bikes and ‘large luggage’ could be easily adapted to make it more bike friendly.
I made it home, ate, and collapsed into a coma.
Niel, as well as being a coach, is a keen photographer and videographer. There may be a video of the trip if he can find the time to edit the shots he took (I mean he carried a camera, a GoPro and a drone!). Below are some of the pics he has shared so far. Memories of an incredible 3 day trip in great company and surroundings.
Would I recommend doing the Marcher Castle Way? 100%
Thanks to Penny, Jo and Niel for always waiting at the top 🙂
One thing I know is that when you finish riding you carry on eating. It is impossible to keep up with the energy you burn. I estimate I was burning about 5000-8000 calories a day and there was no way the stuff I was eating was keeping up with that. This means you have a voracious appetite. Fortunately Darren had found somewhere for brunch in Annecy.
We also caught up with Paul who had scratched a bit further on than us and made his way to Grenoble by bike and then Annecy where we met him for the train to Annemasse.
We then decided to ride the last 30 odd kilometres to Thonon les Bains and find accommodation. It was a lovely ride through rolling countryside adjacent to the lake.
We got to the finish and collected our bags and then I had a steep hill to climb to get to the rather swish (but inexpensive) studio apartment I had booked in the centre of town. Only subsequently did I discover the funicular took me right to the top of the hill avoiding the huge effort required to push a bag and bike up the hill! [Well Paul did a lot of the work…]
Time passes quickly as you enjoy a steaming hot shower, change into normal clothes and shoes, pack bags and bikes away and meet and greet friends as they arrive at the finish.
Of the nine of us who started only one would finish: Niel. The rest of us scratched. Jo and JoJo got the furthest. More proof that women are better at endurance rides than a lot of men.
Stuart’s story
Meanwhile we were hearing more of Stuart’s adventures. He had decided that trying to do the route on a gravel bike was incredibly hard. So he logically went and bought himself a full sus mountain bike! Apparently he arranged for the gravel bike to be shipped home and then set off only to discover that the bike had downhill tyres which made for hard going on the tarmac. So he logically went and got the tyres changed. He seemed to experience the most friendly people who took him into Gites and fed him. Ultimately he also scratched but then plotted his route home by train and ferry. He was the only one of us who did not use a plane or car. Kudos!
The finishers party was scheduled for about 7pm on the Saturday. Of course Niel arrived not long after it started to rapturous applause.
Screenshot
At the time he said it was the hardest event he has done, which is something coming from someone who has done rides in the Andes, Atlas Mountains, Balkans and the Silk Road Mountain Race.
The evening ended with five of us having a Chinese meal before splitting up to make our way home the next day; by train and plane for me and the same or cars for the others.
They say you should not spend your money on material goods but on experiences. The joy of events like this is you can do both 😉
Let me finish with a poem a good friend posted recently that captures what I feel about participating in such an event.
LeisureÂ
by William Henry Davies
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Thanks: to Niel Copeland for coaching and getting me there. Linda, David and Alice for putting up with my idiosyncrasies. Thanks to Stuart, Paul, Darren, Haico, Martin, Jo and JoJo for being such wonderful company and sharing this amazing event. Thanks to Alex for making it easy to find my way home. Until next time:
Cycling Coffee and Cake 