Prologue
So it’s been just over four weeks since completing the Ride Across Britain 2016; which to recap my memory was 969 miles give or take a shake over 9 days, accompanied by 600 other riders of all ages and levels of fitness (though damn good enough for 90% of them to get to the finish). We were supported by a huge team from Threshold Sports, including medics, physios, logistics, cooks, ride chaperones, “front of house”, plus a small army of people organising the camps (600 tents, marquees, etc), toilets, showers, mapping routes; just an incredible rolling village of people come to think of it.
Not everyone made it; there were a few crashes, people taken ill and other reasons, some unknown, others personal, but by and large everyone was there to get us from Land’s End to John O’Groats by bike, over hill and dale, by damned determination and an unwillingness to give in to pain, doubt or tiredness.
A few key facts are shown below, the miles (969miles) and height (47896 feet) are for purists; but 5400 bananas and 2 kilometres of rock tape say it all !!
But that’s not what this little ditty is about, let’s try to capture some highlights, in no particular order:
Friendship and Camaraderie
The ride was divided possibly 50:50 into “corporate riders” and “public riders”, I was the latter. I had signed up to this as a personal challenge and although knew from previous multi-day events that you meet people on the way, however in this instance we were actively encouraged beforehand and at the first evening’s briefing to form mini-pelotons with like-minded souls of similar ability to breed mutual encouragement (everyone would have a bad day), and support. Also riding in groups is about 20% to 30% easier as you draft each other from the air resistance (dry air has a mass of 1.2KG per cubic metre, and once you pedal over as little as 9mph the majority of your power is overcoming that resistance)…so over 200 metres the average cyclist pushes away 100KG of air. Over 100 miles that’s about 88 tonnes of air. Take into account hills (gravity), rolling resistance and friction is it any wonder why we cyclists get a little tired.
I digress, but you get the point why having cycling buddies is better, especially over 9 days. My buddies took the form of Simon and his mate Pete. Now Simon is a slim racing snake with a scouser accent who pinged me a few days before the “grand depart” as he was staying down the road from me in Cornwall and it would be rude not to go for a ride together as we had such a common interest. As it turned out, Simon was more than just a racing snake and finished every day before the poor sods at Threshold could set up the camp. However, Simon’s long time cycling companion was Pete, a giant of a man of few words from Selby (no yorkshire stereo-typing from me).
So by gentle accident I spent a lot of time with Pete, mainly looking at his rear (major drafting) with the occasional flutter up hills (more to come on that). We were also joined by two younger ladies at separate times (Amanda and Urvashi); and we became a set of loosely coupled companions for the ride, not always together, but watching out for each other, e.g. drafting, providing encouragement and fixing punctures along the way. The picture below is one of my favourites; what it doesn’t show is that we had just spent several hours climbing up Glen Coe, an almost spiritual endeavour, with the sun on our backs and in the knowledge we’d cracked the day. This was time for a rare smile….I am sure Pete is pointing at me muttering “who’s this bloody idiot?”. It was a moment in time that I’ll remember fondly for the pain and the excitement of that big country.
There were others, mainly nameless individuals sharing the “bubble” as the RAB collective came to be called. As happens, you tend to meet the same people along the way and the rhythm of the days soon got into the cadence of passing and being passed by the same people as you/they stopped for pictures, a pee, fettling or pitstops. A gentle cheer or wave was all that was needed to let the other person know you were watching their backs, and vice versa, and all sharing the pains and the pleasures that the ride delivered. So long term friendships? maybe, but not heart and soul buddies for me, others probably made more of it through happy or unhappy circumstance (many brave people riding for loved ones, or lost loved ones and for charities that had a very personal impact on their lives) or them being part of their own corporate gang. For me, my highlight was sharing the pain and pleasure with fellow strugglers, alone on the road but never too far from a friendly smile or a helping hand.
Sunrises
Nine of them, but for me three stand out. The first was Okehamption Race Course. The sun rose for the first time for us after a long day’s ride through Cornwall and Devon, and breathed warmth back into our bones; the view across the valley was stunning, with low mist hanging in the valleys. The sunrise gave us belief that the day would be a good one, not withstanding the hills to come, little wind, no rain, a day of promise. The day warmed quickly as we passed Crediton and onto the Somerset Levels, Quantocks and Cheddar Gorge (see Hills).
The second sunrise was Ben Nevis, a hill that manages on most days to hide from view on an epic scale. But not on our day, oh boy, we were camped near its base, and though it toyed with us in the evening before, the morning sunrise stunned even those hardened scotsmen to tears. We knew that our previous day, and the longest day at 126 miles, had been well deserving of this treat.
The third sunrise was the start of the final day’s ride from the Kyle of Sutherland to John O’Groats. We needed to start a full one hour earlier than usual as many people needed to make flight connections from Inverness that same day, so needed extra time to ensure that this was not jeopardised by a long ride – and long it was. As you can see, we were given a gift of a beautiful highland sunrise, with clear skies and floating mists on the lakes and rivers that we passed, a truly memorable experience. I recall muttering how the mountains in my distant view were crimson as the sun’s first light gently kissed their upper slopes, the rest being white and black in the cold light of day break whilst the land around me was still, with silence only broken by the breath of 600 cyclists climbing gently ever upwards towards the “Crask Inn” and Altnaharra. At one point we passed a river, the mist cover just lifting, and by strange light and the eeriness of the surrounding peatland, the river appeared to be running upwards – honest I hadn’t had a drop of the golden nectar ! I could muse about that last day for a while, the ride up to Tongue was special, we followed a valley to the coast. The sight of the North Sea, the first since Cornwall brought a small lump to my throat in the same way when i finally hit the Camargue after riding from Calais a few years ago; but this time the “lump” was soon replaced by the lumps in the road, also called “grippy” hills all the way to John O’Groats.
Hills
There were some beauties. Of note, Cothelstone, a steep mother that leads one onto the Quantock Hills. This is a Cat3 hill that just kept giving for 1.2KM, averaging at 10%;
The second was Cheddar Gorge, one of the UK’s top 100 climbs, and topping at 19% on the switchback makes you know it’s there. However after climbing through the gorge itself, there’s another 10 kilometres of climbing, getting ever gentle as you climb. I need to do that hill again !
The last hill of note is Shap Fell. This one wasn’t steep, though at some point I looked down at the Garmin midway up to see it has risen to 15%; but the memory for me was two-fold, firstly the horrendous headwind that came out of nowhere, combined with a poor road surface that bumped you every foot of the climb, but all that was forgotten in the blink of an eye, for at the top was joy in the form of flags of every nation making up the UK, held high by cheering “crowds”, and gently fluttering in the middle of the road, welcoming us to the summit, it was near tearful.
So, 47,000 feet of climbing, lots of hills, but none too daunting that I wouldn’t want to do them again; I’d relish another challenge at them. This time, I’d not be so much the “diesel” that I promised myself to ensure that enough was kept in the tank for the entire journey….however the urge to unleash the horses was sometimes unbearable. Maximum speed 47 mph, somewhere on Day 2 🙂
Scenary that only the UK can offer. I can’t describe this too much. You need to ride or walk to SEE the country that we live in. Car, bus, train or plane ? Nah, doesn’t cut the mustard. Biggest surprise was Scotland, oh yes, there is a beautiful land, and I thank it for doing itself justice with kind winds and fair skies.
Finishes. Let’s face it, every day we cycled over 100 miles, so every finish was special, not just the last day. In particular, arriving in Okehamption on Day 1 was special – why, because it was the first one, and getting off the bike to realise that hey this is possible, and I don’t need to grind up anymore hills that day was more than a relief.
Others that come to mind ? Penwith. That was a long hard day and I had pumped up my tyres too hard, meaning that my feet were burning from the vibrations and effort to turn the pedals up from Haydock Park. I recall getting off the bike and parking it in the stand, taking my shoes off and letting my feet sink into the cold, squiggly mud, glorious !
So, we come to the finish, and I was split, I didn’t want this to end. My knees shouted pain, dulled by horse quantities of codeine sulphate, my bottom covered in surgical tape from the wounds, my legs covered in rock tape to take the pressure off my knees. My body had had enough.
Now usually when it comes to long rides I like to finish like a hare, using the “start slow, finish fast” motto, but this had transformed into “start slow, finish..” ; and I gently cruised into John O’Groats. I knew this was a big deal, there’d be people, but I didn’t expect so many; all around me people hugging and crying, tears of joy and relief, journeys done, fears and doubts conquered. I had Kirsten there, that would always have been enough. The Finish ? Maybe ? I like to think it is just the end of the beginning.
