Thursday, 2 March 2017

Rovaniemi Kit - what worked and what didn't

Everything is a learning experience (if you want to improve) and I'll look at kit after every trip to see what worked for me, didn't work for me, things I can learn from others, even on rides where I think everything went OK. With that in mind here's a look at what I got right and wrong on last week's Rovaniemi 150 race.

What worked


Clothing

Looking at what I wore it doesn't look like much (Roubaix bib longs, thermal shirt of uncertain vintage, lightweight cycling top (that was on its last legs) and a Haglofs ultralightweight windshirt that I'd bought secondhand off the Bearbones forum) and certainly at the start I was "cool" but I'd done a couple of rides the previous days in the area at low intensity and kept warm so I was confident that in the fine weather we had on the day it would be fine. Keeping in the "Goldilocks zone" is paramount in cold weather, you don't want to be too warm and so get your base layers soaked with sweat. Equally you don't want to be chilled. My hands did get cold (see below) but the rest of me was always comfortable to warm.

I also had several buffs that I used to cover my head and face as and when I needed to. This along with unzipping the top few cm of the windshirt meant that regulating my temperature was relatively easy.

Pacing

With good conditions it was a fast start and while I was fairly quick to the first checkpoint I was well behind the leaders. I've no idea how many were in front of me as we were all a bit quick for the guys at the checkpoint and they photo'd us rather than us signing in and out (plus there were the 66Km racers in the mix as well) but at the third checkpoint (which was the first without the 66 Km competitors) I was at the bottom of the second page. From then on I was continually moving up the leaderboard but never quite made it to the first page until the finish.

My pacing was also good in that I didn't get a single twinge of cramp, in fact I was fine overnight and the next day as well which proves I didn't go "into the red" for any significant period of time.


What didn't work


The pogies

I'd left things a bit late plus I needed something that would fit the Jones Loop bars which many of the standard "go to" solutions explicitly say they don't do. As a result I ordered a pair of Alpkit Bear Paws which are a new line for Alpkit so there was no user feedback anywhere. Suffice to say, they aren't up to the job when temperatures really drop, a lot of the "features" are really faults in low temperatures: no elasticated wrist closure; velcro opening for quick exit; not fully lined (see the photo below). It's now a case of "I know what doesn't work so I'll find something that does what I want". The Alpkit Bear Paws will be fine for the UK and in temperatures down to around -5C.

The paper is aligned with the edge of the fibre pile insulation.


Stupidly, I'd got chemical warming pouches with me but didn't use them.


Packing of my bike Bags

I basically used my summer/autumn/UK winter system which has bivy kit in the front harness, spare clothing and stuff I don't expect to use in the seat pack, stove and evening stuff in the frame bag then food and other trail items in stem cells and the like. This meant that I didn't have spare gloves to hand when I needed them. Eating on the go when riding on potentially untracked snow isn't really feasible - it's better to stop and eat. The food should have gone in the frame bag while spare gloves and buffs should have been in the Lioness bag out front.

Water

I was a bit worried about this beforehand. I happened to find an insulated flask with flip-top plastic drinking spout in town so used that and a normal water bottle inverted in a fleece mitten. It didn't really work.

Not sure how I'll work around this.

Wednesday, 22 February 2017

Rovaniemi 150 The 2017 edition


Finally my hands are warm(ish), I'm somewhere on the last hill of the route. A street light appears over the brow of the hill, incongruous in the vast forest. Street light means road, road means end of the hard stuff, I cross and drop down to the Ounasjoki which will lead me to the finish.

Suddenly the temperature plummets and in the 200 metres between the road and river my hands become blocks of ice. The next, final, checkpoint is a kilometre along the ice. I can warm up there.

I turn my head and notice something. There, hanging in the sky, is a curtain of green light with translucent veils to either side. The Northern Lights. I stop, hang the race, I take in the moment, the silence and beauty are stunning.

"Meenus sixteen" says the woman as I warm my hands by the fire. "Minus six?" I say, confused as to what she is really saying, "No! No! Meenus sixteen. One, six". It`s stinging and I spend time to fully warm myself.

I don't know what got me thinking about the Rovaniemi 150, perhaps it was watching the blue dots on a tracking page a couple of years ago, maybe the idea of something different. Anyway, I filled the form in, using my Himalayan and winter alpine climbing "career" as my background experience. Alex, the organiser, seemed happy enough with that and with a bank transfer of the entrance fee I was in. It would be my first bike race. Ever. Just one problem.

I didn't have a fat bike.

I then remembered that that I`d seen a rolling chassis for sale on the Bearbones forum. A quick check and it was still for sale. It was being sold by Ian Barrington who`d been one of the blue dots I`d watched eighteen months earlier. A bit more internet shopping and spending of money and I had the parts to complete the bike. See this post about that process.

Alex spends the first few minutes of the briefing listing the reasons that we might be disqualified, then it's on to the safety aspects of the route and what to do in case things go wrong. The discussion and slides of frostbite had a few squirming.


Getting ready for the off


It`s cold down on the Ounasjoki river as we mill around, the weather is clear skies rather than the cloud of the last few days. A couple of recce rides in the days before had revealed that conditions were fast, I'm thinking that fifteen hours might be a reasonable target. Finally the clock has counted down and we are sent on our way. The pace is fast, too fast for me but there are three races and quite a few of those ahead will be on the shorter 66Km route.

Myself and Cath at the start.

It`s almost a carnival atmosphere as we head up river, TV crews track us on snowmobiles, locals clap and cheer. The pace still isn't letting up and the lead riders are already dots in the distance. I get to the first checkpoint, we are so quick that they haven't had time to get themselves set up: "Thirty seven minutes, very quick" Thirty seven minutes for eleven kilometres! Maybe Alex was right and the fastest riders will beat ten hours.

Already spread out heading up the Ounasjoki River.


Still, that's them, the fast riders, not me.

The second checkpoint marks the start of the first "Pain in the Ass" sections, only 700 metres but it's unrideable as it twists in and around trees, saplings and boulders. Eventually it debouches onto the first lake section.



Legs feel good, I'm not overheating or struggling at this pace. Sod it! This is a race, let`s race!



I start to reel in the dots in the distance, the first is one of the 66Km racers, the next is on the 150. The lake goes on for ever and it's beginning to get tiresome when a sharp left signifies the split between the shorter and longer routes and leads up and off the ice onto a track. Another couple of riders are caught, they talk to themselves but don`t reply to my "hello". Their problem.

There are, apparently, 188,000 lakes in Finland, pity the poor sod who had to count them:

"Hi, I`m Laassi, I`m new here, I finished college last week. Do you have a job for me?"

"Yes, we need some lakes checking." (snigger)


Checkpoint three takes forever to appear, I`m beginning to think I've missed it. Sort out water, my left boot is niggling so retie the lacing. Grumpy and Grumpier arrive, still not talking to anyone but themselves. Time to go!

Fat bikes are for snow right? Except that in Britain we don't get lots of deep dry snow, just a centimetre or two of slush. The next kilometre or two demonstrate my lack of technique so to cheer myself up I decide to make some snow angels. Others were less complimentary and called them holes. Grumpy and Grumpier aren't impressed by my artistic merit and disappear down the track.

Eventually the tricky stuff ends and I can make good time again. Four hours gone and I've done a third of the route, could twelve hours be doable? Checkpoint four is in the middle of nowhere and is the last one before the Bridge of Doom. We`ve been told not to ride this as getting wet isn't advised. No worries, but it's dicy even on foot. "Pain in the Ass" number two follows, it's not as bad as the first.

About half the notes I make at the briefing are for this section of twenty kilometres between CP4 & CP6: bridge of Doom, wolves, open areas that could be windy and cold, etc. "You probably won't see the wolves".

Checkpoint five is also in the middle of nowhere - the guys have just turned up on snowmobiles, put up a tarp and got a brazier going. "The leaders went through an hour ago. The guy in second place is doing the 300Km race" Crikey, that`s some pace, he must be on a promise! Grumpy and Grumpier are there, still not talking to anyone else. Time to leave them behind. I won't see them again.

I`m enjoying this, really enjoying it.


I'm over halfway now and at the furthest point of the route from the start/finish. There's three bikes outside the hut at checkpoint six. The riders are inside warming themselves by the fire. I spend time drying my gloves and eating. Time to go. I leave at the same time as another rider and initially struggle to keep up with him but he takes a tumble, he's OK, but he never catches me. 

There follows fifteen kilometres of fast, smooth, logging road that is almost all descent. Descent means no effort helping keep you warm and I'm cold by the time I get to the main road. Two thirds distance done in eight hours, twelve hours is still doable, just. The light is fading, time to put an extra buff on as a face mask. Keep pushing on, lights go on, the road gives way to forestry track.

It`s not fun anymore, but perversely I'm still enjoying myself, my hands are still cold and the next checkpoint is beyond some indeterminate number of corners along this forestry track. There`s a light behind me, slowly gaining. It`s a snowmobile and it digs up all the good surface so the going becomes harder. I smell the woodsmoke from the checkpoint fire before I see it. There`s another light gaining on me, a rider, one of the three from the hut thirty kilometres earlier, but he doesn't quite catch me before I stop.

I`m cold and sit by the fire for a good while. I get my phone out to text Cath, it`s so cold that the touchscreen initially fails to respond. There's a text: she was third lady in her race and won a cup! 35Km to go, a couple of hours, I don't think I'll make twelve hours though. Readjust to thirteen. 

"If you're going through Hell, keep going."

Tired now, the other rider leaves before me, I don't care, just finish. More fire road with soft surface and I'm having to walk some of the slight uphills. I can see his flashing red rear light about a kilometre ahead. The track twists and turns dropping down to the last lake. Just keep going.

In the middle of the lake I stop, the crunch of my tyres on the ice dies away, Orion is hanging in the sky in front of me, Cassiopeia suspended above. I scan the night sky, nothing but stars, no magic. Press on.

The last hill, it`s a drag, that gentle angle that you think should be easier than it turns out to be. I can see the lights of planes landing at Rovaniemi airport, the track swinging left and right so sometimes they are in front of me, sometimes to the side. Over the brow of the hill I see a street light.

At the last checkpoint there are two riders: the one who`d caught and left me at the previous stop and the 300Km race leader. He's mad as a box of frogs and aiming to complete that route in one go without sleep. I ring Cath to tell her I'll be 45mins to an hour. Once I`ve warmed my hands I'm away again, the light of my competitor acting as a target. It`s now 2110, I have fifty minutes to get under my target of thirteen hours.

Within a kilometre I've caught him, we ride together for a while: "The first third is a race, the second third is touring, the last is survival." he says, I know what he means. My hands have gone cold again, push on, keep generating heat. The elastic snaps (he said afterwards that his back was hurting and couldn't apply power) and he falls further and further behind, the lights of the city beckon me on.

I check my GPS: 2153, seven minutes for the last Km and a bit, could be close! Off the river now, up the bank. No traffic on the road so I'm not waiting for a green light. In the hotel lobby I lean my bike against the wall and head to the event HQ and give my number. A shake of hands, some photos. I'm done.

Too tired to ask anything, it's the next day when Cath checks Facebook that I find that I finished in tenth place in 12:59, the winner took 10:25 so 25% longer which is good for me. I'm really, really pleased with that. She said that at the next to last stop I was still only an hour or so behind the leaders so my time for the last bit reflected how truly tired I was.


"Hi, I've finished counting. Can I go now?"

"Sure Laassi. Do you want to take your clock and retirement card with you?"


The route is great, varied, even the "Pain in the Ass" sections are enjoyable in their own way, if it was all lake and fire road it would be fairly boring. I really enjoyed it, even the bits where I struggled with the cold (my fault really, damp gloves along with pogies that weren`t capable of dealing with moderately low temperatures). I definitely made mistakes: apart from the gloves I didn't get food and water properly sorted, my understanding of snow and appropriate tyre pressures also needs work. On the plus side: my pacing was fine, I could see myself working my way up the signing in/out boards at each checkpoint and my choice of clothing was just right, having seven pairs of gloves and four pairs of trousers to choose from helps!

Getting to Lapland for the Rovaniemi 150 might seem a lot of logistical effort for one race but it is much, much more than the 150Km distance and 1300 metres of ascent: alone, at night, in the vast forests of the north you realise just how much we take for granted and how comfortable and secure our lives really are.

    "If you are eaten by wolves, you are disqualified!"
    

Tough but fair.

Wednesday, 18 January 2017

Fat bikes at the BearBones winter event

"So, where are the motors then?"
"You're looking at them. We're the motors!"

The farmer was obviously a bit confused in the encroaching gloom. He had mistaken our fat bikes for moto-cross bikes. The ensuing conversation was slightly bizarre with him talking about the course that Dan and Rachel Atherton had built nearby: "ramps that they jump off are as big as my house!"

This was my second and Cath's first BearBones Winter event. This is a bit like a make it up as you go along Trailquest or orienteering on bikes. You get sent a list of grid references - including the obligatory location in the Irish Sea! No prizes for visiting all the given locations, choose where you want to go and make up your own route as you see fit. The locations generally follow a theme, this year it was "Church or Chapel" - eight churches and eight chapels, choose one or the other.

Laying out the maps of the area on the living room floor we plotted the locations (the errant Irish Sea church had been relocated to somewhere less isolated), 20p pieces for the churches, pennies for the chapels. It was apparent that most of the chapels were in areas we had visited either on the BB200 or when riding into and out of last summer's Bearstock shindig. Churches it was then.

With going to Rovaniemi in a month's time it was time to get some fat biking training done. Having done last year's event and found that the grassier bridleways are a little on the interesting side during winter the plan was to stick to roads, tracks and firmer ground wherever possible. A bit of map work and we'd a 100Km route for the two days with a rather hefty 2600 metres of ascent thrown into the mix. The route did allow for some short cuts which are always handy at this time of year.

Our plan to stop at Oswestry for the Friday night then head to Llanbrynmair early on Saturday morning proved to be a decent option given the tales of struggling to get to the "official" pre-event pub in the snow. On the other hand the restaurant we ate at did have their "heaters" blowing cold air at us until I pointed it out to the staff!

Saturday morning is a chance to have a chat with some familiar faces whilst being fed tea and toast courtesy of Dee and Stuart. Perhaps more importantly given that I've forgotten my full weight waterproof is Mark Evans turning up on time with an insulated windshirt that I was buying off him. A check and it fits, and doesn't get taken off! I think I'm going to need it. Time to go.

Then after 300m realise that I've left my rear light in the car - doh!

A ford on a hidden lane.

Back for that then we are really on our way. The first bit of the route didn't look too bad, especially when compared to riding over Bwlch y Groes later on but in reality it was going across the grain of the land so was: up; down; up; down, with hardly any flat whatsoever. Thus at one moment you were sweating away then chilling off as you dropped back down the hill.
Straightforward after some very slippy rock.


Yep! It's another long climb.

Now while I'd tried to avoid grassy bridleways there was one that was unavoidable as it traversed a hillside before plunging down to some woods. While fat bikes have great traction most surfaces, a couple of centimetres of wet, muddy grass overlying subsoil isn't one of them, some of the resultant slides were quite comedic. Fortunately the steeper parts of the descent were a different, rougher species of grass and you could get grip but as soon as the angle eased things had been seeded with pasture varieties and we were back to sliding around. After getting lost in the woods - well you'd take the big obvious track rather than the faint line wouldn't you? The proper line was really good if short lived, eventually dropping through a rock cutting so presumably an access track to an old quarry. 

By now time was getting on and with the cold and damp we needed some refreshment. Andy and Adam's cafe in Corris was the eating hole and most excellent it was too. Cath had the broth and I had the chowder. 

Nearly sided it all up!

As we were leaving a couple of other riders arrived from the direction we were heading - decision time for them: late lunch or early supper? There wasn't going to be much daylight left by the time we set off and riding along winding main roads in the dark didn't appeal so a short cut was called for. This was also on a main road but much more open so drivers would be able to see us in good time.


Checking out the tiger bike at the cafe in Corris

First of all there was the little matter of a col to cross. This was on a national cycle route and was probably an old lane at one point but is now tarmac. It was a long slog though on a fat bike, interrupted only by our conversation with the farmer. Down to the Cross Foxes pub then along the A470 to Dinas Mawddwy before heading up valley and a search for a bivy site.

We were back on the planned route now, the way ahead lay along a steep bridleway. A building on the map that we hoped might be a farm building turned out to be a house - no go there then. A little further on I notice a relatively flat spot amongst all the steepness and trees. It would have to do, certainly it was a lot better than my bivy last year - we were well sheltered from wind and rain. A quick clearing of twigs and other debris and the tarp was. Our evening meal was rice and tuna, the pan is just big enough for one serving each so while one of us ate the other was getting their sleeping kit ready.

A view from a room

One disadvantage of bivying under tree cover is that things are much darker than you are used to. Consequently it was gone eight when we decided to move. We hadn't finished off the climb from the night before so there was about 100 metres of steep track to start with.

This got us to a junction of ways but it was downhill for us and a nice bit of singletrack contouring above the river turned into a quad bike track then a farm track all the way down the valley. A bit muddy but all rideable. Eventually we passed through a farmyard with associated "friendly" dogs and some rather excitable bullocks to a blast down to the main road. Back on with the rear lights (don't want any excuses about "Sorry mate I didn't see you") for the couple of Km or so to our turn off.

On the bridleway by Afon Clwyedog

This was the home straight, all forestry tracks and roads from now on. First a long, long drag up into and through the forestry. We headed north for a couple of Km before doing a 180deg turn and heading south for a couple of Km by which time we'd nearly circumnavigated a complete ridge! I'm not a fan of riding in forests - you don't get any sense of progression or sense of place. Eventually though we began to descend and came to the forest gate: locked! Lifting loaded fat bikes over five bar gates isn't easy! The track continued in a generally downhill direction with just the occasional 100m of pedalling required for flat sections or short rises.

Just before the next section of forestry there's a track heading down into the cwm to our right, it will get us out of the wind and drizzle. It's steep and fast and eventually drops us into a farmyard with a rather deep looking ford in the middle of it. Luckily there's a bridge to the side that we can ride across. We are now on tarmac and it's all downhill, really. There's virtually no pedalling involved until we get to the main road in Llanbrynmair. This does mean that we get chilled through the lack of effort on our part.

Lots of tea and grub courtesy of Dee and Stuart again, get into some dry clothes, chat with others until it's time to load the bikes into the car and head home.


We didn't manage our planned 100Km route but ended up doing 85Km and 1700 metres of ascent. A decent amount of training done.

Saturday, 5 November 2016

Scratching the N+1 itch

One of the Velominati rules is "The correct number of bikes to own is N+1 where N is the number of bikes you currently own." In real life this is limited by W which is the number of bikes your wife owns.

Since I got the Cotic Solaris it's pretty well scratched that N+1 itch, every time I've looked at another bike to cover some particular off-road activity I've realised that the Solaris will do almost all of what I'd be getting the extra bike for and most of the time the new bike would gather dust. As a result I've stuck with the Solaris, modern steel hardtails are surprisingly adaptable beasts.

I did get myself a set of "Plus" or "semi-fat" wheels which is a cheap way of completely altering the nature of the bike. As their name suggests they are a sort of halfway house between standard MTB wheels and tyres and those on fat bikes. With limited space in the house they are also an efficient option in that regard. Which sort of brings me to the one category of bikes that the Solaris or any standard hardtail can't cover: fat bikes.

Yep, those comedic looking bikes with a pair of life buoys for tyres.

I'd an idea that required a fat bike and it just so happened that I remembered seeing a post on the Bearbones forums that someone had one for sale. A bit of crawling back through the classified section and there it was: a Singular Puffin rolling chassis, basically frame, forks, wheels, seatpost as well as a prototype frame bag. It was being sold by Ian Barrington who'd used it for the same ride I was thinking of. It was still available so a couple of messages and a transfer of funds later it was mine. Now there was just the job of getting it to me. We were both doing the BB200 so easiest to get it then. He was also selling a set of Avid BB7 brakes which he'd used on the bike so I grabbed them as well since they'd be set up for the bike.

In the meantime ...

Internet shopping!

Walk in to any decent sized bike shop (or even the mega-stores that are appearing) and there's a bewildering plethora of parts on offer, not only that there's multiple choices for each part. Look closely however and you'll notice something, or rather you won't, there are virtually no parts for Plus or Fat bikes. Not even tyres. Even though a fat bike might stick in the memory when you see one out on the trails they are very much a niche product. (There are fat bike specialists like Charlie the Bikemonger but these are the exception.) To accommodate the wide wheels three areas also need widening: the front fork and axle; the bottom bracket and cranks; the rear triangle and axle. In my case the front and back ends of things were already dealt with since the rolling chassis had the wheels, all what I needed was a set of cranks. 

It turns out that there aren't that many fat bike cranks around, who'd have thunk it? I'd another item on my shopping wish list: a 28T oval chainring. This really limited my options as to use that sort of chainring would mean a direct mount rather than a traditional spider where the arms would foul the chain. The choice came down to two: a fairly expensive alloy model or a stupidly expensive carbon jobbie. Of course I went for the alloy one - the carbon set would cost £2 for every gramme saved in weight. Why a fat bike specific crankset? Well the width of the tyres means that using a normal width crankset would cause the chain to rub against the tyre at its closest point to the bottom bracket so things need to be moved out a bit.

The rest of the parts weren't fat bike specific, derailleur, chain, stem, shifters but one does stand out, the Jones Loop bars. These look weird and to anyone accustomed to standard mountain bike handlebars, just wrong. This summer I'd had a very short ride on a bike with them fitted, the ride was actually to try out the Lauf forks that the bike also had but I couldn't isolate how they worked because of the Plus tyres on the bike. The bars felt right though in the same way that the Solaris had felt right when I first rode one around the car park at Dales Bike Centre. More searching and I managed to get a virtually unused 2nd hand pair of carbon loops for £200.

The first evening of work was fitting forks, stem and bars as well as brake rotors to the wheels. I just had an hour or so before having to make tea. Because of their shape getting the angle of the bars is quite critical to comfort. Without riding it I could only make a guess.

Raceface cranks and Absolute Black oval chainring.

The next evening's short work session saw bottom bracket, cranks, cassette, derailleur, brakes and saddle fitted. Again, without riding, I wasn't able to judge the best angle or position for the brake levers. I left the calipers loose as I needed daylight to be able to get them properly aligned. The same applied to setting up the derailleur.

So on a Saturday morning I set to work to complete the build. The brakes were easy enough, I've had BB7s before, but I did need a new set of pads for the rear brake which I fortunately had "in stock". On to the drivetrain. At this point I noticed two things: 


  1. In my eagerness/stupidity I'd ordered cable outer for brakes not gears!
  2. I'd fitted the bottom bracket without the spacers so needed to remove the crankset and the BB to sort that out. The instructions for the cranks had notes on how to install them but not how to remove them! More internet searching and it turns out I need an ISIS crank puller.


A trip to Rider's Cycle Centre got me some gear cable outer but none of the shops in town had the crank puller. Back home I began to ring round more local shops, the shop near my work had one so I asked them to keep it for me and headed down the valley. An hour and a bit later I'm back home. It took longer to get the puller out of the blister pack than getting the crank off! The right tool for the job and all that. I also checked my phone to find a missed message from the same bike shop that the bar tape I'd ordered had arrived! Oh well, that would have to wait.

With the bottom bracket and cranks sorted it was on to the derailleur. I've never fitted or set one up before. I read some notes on the web, then re-read them several times, then read them again. Cable outer on, measure twice cut once, set the high stop, fit the chain, fix the cable and click down the gears. A bit of twiddling of the low stop and I'm in the bottom gear. Going fine. Except I can't now change gear plus the gears are making an awful grating sound. Then I realise I've not set the B-screw! So turn that in a couple of turns and now everything's working as it should. Last job is to cut the cable and put on the cable crimp.

Cassette and Derailleur.

The Puffin comes with removable cable guides in case you run singlespeed so these need fitting and the relevant cables fixing in them.

Having picked up all the bar tape on the Monday morning I got home then realised that I'd need some black electrical tape to finish things off so another day of waiting and a visit to the local hardware store. 

Taping the bars. I've gone for a two colour scheme to reflect the multi-coloured beak of the puffin itself: the rear part of the loop will be yellow and the front part orange. I could equally have gone for orange and red. The central part of the front loop is clear to allow fitting of lights, this gap is the same width as that around the stem clamp on the rear part of the loop. The real difficulty comes with how to tape around the junction of the two parts of the loop as the welding and fillets make it quite awkward to get a complete coverage without creating excessive bulk.

After considering various sequences I settled on doing the rear tape first, starting from the stem and working towards the joint, this way allows the tape to sit better on earlier wraps on the taper between the 31.8mm and 25.4mm tube sections. The end of this tape was then wrapped around the joint in a cross pattern, extra layers in the corners of the joint aren't a problem. Then I did the front tape, again starting from the front and working back towards the joint. This let me apply the tape in a spiral that matched the angle of the joint. I did a sort of figure of eight around the joint covering up the finishing loop of the first tape before finishing a couple of centimetres behind the joint.

Repeat on other side.

The taped bars. Ignore the grips, they'll be replaced with black ESI grips. 

I've a couple of old grips lying around so put them on as an interim measure but I'll keep them on for a while and move the levers and shifter around a bit to get an idea of which position is best for me, then I'll cut the ESI grips to suit. My Hope flat pedals that I swap on and off the Solaris get fitted, time to have a quick ride round the yard. But first a weighing, there's no bar tape but the lock-on grips are heavier than the ones I intend to use so probably balance out. The scales say 14.3Kg. Pump the tyres up to something that should be OK, 7.5psi!

The final build!

So, apart from the grips it's done.

First ride: it's definitely different. Yes it's a bike but the front end seems to have a mind of its own due to the gyroscopic effect of all that spinning mass, particularly when you build up speed. There's a feeling that the front wants to tuck in as you turn, there's also a slight twitch when you come out of a turn and you are bringing the bike upright again. All this is much more noticable on tarmac as the tyres have so much grip. This grip also manifests itself by amplifying those small lateral movements that occur when riding. On something like a road bike on 23C tyres you'll see the front wheel "twitch" almost continuously but it has little effect on riding. On the fat bike these all continually conspire to pull or push you to one side

The next ride sees a bit of progress: lean in to a corner and give a definite shove to the handlebars on the side that I'm turning towards, it's just enough to counter the tuck feeling. I've never ridden a motorbike but I imagine the riding technique is pretty similar in terms of handling the spinning mass. A bit of investigation reveals that it might be caused by running at too low a pressure so I have a look around and find a fat bike equivalent to the Stans formula: 


  • weight in Kg divided by nine then subtract 0.5psi for the front and add 0.5psi for the back.


There's another formula:


  • 1psi for each 10Kg in weight of rider and kit


These both produce very similar values.

With the tyres now at the "correct" pressure the next ride was somewhat less fraught and the bike just about went where I aimed it.

One thing that I wasn't sure I'd got right was the angle of the bars. I'd fitted them with around a 20deg slope towards the rear almost the same angle as the rake of the top tube but this felt a little strange so I lifted them up by five degress. Another ride or two and that didn't feel right so eased the angle a little more as well as ease the downward angle of the saddle nose. Having the saddle level doesn't work for me as the constant buffetting from the trail forces my weight on to my hands causing numbness over time. A slight nose down is the answer. I also move the saddle back a cm.

All this is really trial and error to find what works. What setup works on one bike won't necessarily be correct for another.

On the descent into Kentmere

I've been using the Puffin for my commute in order to get used to the handling and as a set of shakedown rides as well as getting the handlebars and saddle positions sorted.

Monday, 10 October 2016

Bear Bones 200


Mid Wales isn't somewhere you associate with lots of bridleways and mountain biking but look around and there's quite a number of bridleways, lanes and ancient rights of way that can be linked together. Every year this is what Stuart Wright does creating a route of around 200Km and invites others to ride it. The route changes from year to year and it's one of only two UK ITTs not to have a fixed route, the Yorkshire Dales 200 is the other.

It should be noted that Stuart's idea of a bike route and that of others don't necessarily align!

Expect interesting terrain.

So it was that on an October Sunday morning he emailed a GPX file to everyone who had signed up. I loaded it in to a suitable mapping web site and the disection began. Even though I haven't done much in Mid-Wales there were a few bits I had visited on the winter ride and Bearstock but these amounted to maybe 10% of the route, more investigation was required. Already there were murmurings on interweb forums, those in the know proffered digital nods and winks.

Tracing along the route in a photo website didn't reveal anything untoward but then the photographers were more interested in dilapidated old pieces of farm machinery than TPM (Tussocks Per Mile). Stuart mentioned a general slowing down might be expected after the halfway point. There was talk of a fast first half with the second half taking twice as long. A cruel finish was being spoken of.

More questions were forthcoming on the forum: where were the resupply points? What about pubs? What are the opening hours of the chippy in Knighton? Oh, hang on - the Sunday Co-op hours are different aren't they? Plans formed and disolved in equal measure.

Like many rural areas Mid-Wales has suffered from the tyranny of the motor car, village shops and services have closed as people  became more mobile and retail chains became the norm. More interweb searching leads to the conclusion that the only viable resupply points are Knighton at 100Km and Llanidloes at 160Km, the latter coming after some of the "slowing down". Most would be able to use Knighton but depending on strategy and pace Llanidloes might be shut.

Generally on events like this time is "made" by not losing time. My "steady away" pace is about 14kmh and at that sort of speed five minutes in a shop getting resupplied equates to just over 1Km, too many stops adds up. The countryside isn't a trail centre and there are often gates to contend with. These range from smooth and bike friendly to "it's better to lift the bike over" but if you weren't concentrating then each can take a minute to negotiate. A 14kmh pace would mean getting to Knighton in around 7hrs. Someone noted that there was 90Km of road on the route but a look at the map confirmed it wasn't all flat and most of it was in the first half. A possible strategy was emerging.

Aim for Knighton and refuel there. The next target would be to get to Llanidloes before the Co-op or Spar shut which would mean 7hrs for the 60Km (it would get dark about halfway through this section), however I'd take on enough supplies to ensure that I didn't rely on getting there in time. Once at Llanidloes there was about 10Km of easier riding until I got on to a section I'd done before, that would get me to the "sting in the tail". Depending on time and how I felt after Llanidloes I'd either bivy if feeling tired or ride through to the finish. I didn't want to commit to doing one or the other. Then came the news that a community cafe in Bwlch y Sarnau was going to stay open through the night for riders doing the event! ByS is at 140Km so a handy spot meaning that getting to Llanidloes wasn't the make or break it could have been.

The bike was set up with this in mind: seat pack with bivy gear and two stem cells with food. Although I try not to use a backpack this time it made sense as I could carry water in it and not using a frame bag or water bottles would mean that the main triangle was clear so carrying the bike would be easier should there be any serious hike-a-bike. The bike and luggage weighed 14Kg with 3kg or so on my back.

Saturday morning and there's a nervous group of cyclists loitering in and around Llanbrynmair Community Centre. Inside Stuart and Dee are serving up tea and breakfast. There isn't a group start, you can set off any time between 0800 and 1000. This has the advantage that you aren't immediately in "race" mode trying to keep up with others and overdo it early on as it's likely you'll set off on your own. The choice really is about whether to start early to make the most of the daylight or start later and have some riders ahead of you to act as "targets" to pull you along.

Cath's away early on to make the most of the daylight, I wait a while getting more food and drink inside me before starting at 0855. The first few Km are road but generally uphill until a turn left and things steepen. Eventually the gradient eases and forestry tracks lead to and from the high point. Once on the road again it's mostly downhill for the next half hour or so but even the uphill bits aren't hard. The fast riders are already going past with alarming ease. At Llandinam the next bit of hard work starts in earnest, there's 400m of height to gain in the next few Km with a nice muddy traversing bridleway to make things interesting. I catch Cath on the first really steep climb, all but the strongest are walking.

For those of you who have only ever seen his back, this is what Stuart "it's not a race" Cowperthwaite looks like.

As the day goes on I begin to catch up the early riders and more of the faster riders pass me. Sometime I'm riding with company with a bit of chatter then the elastic snaps and I'm on my own again. The route is quite easy to follow with just the occasional check of the GPS to make sure. The early morning clag clears and it's a bright if not sunny day and just the right temperature for riding.

On the outward leg.


There's a few squiggles in the route where you are riding along a ridgeline only to drop into the valley before climbing back up on to the ridge. At the last of these climbs we have a strange encounter with a local resident.

"You can't go up here, it's not a right of way."

"The map says it's a bridleway."

"Yes. So it's for horses. Bicycles aren't allowed."

"Err, a bridleway is for horses and pedal cycles. It's just motorised vehicles that aren't allowed."

"Is it? Well I never knew that!"

A bit more dealing with moaning then it's on with the climb. Eventually this climb becomes a push until the angle eases and we roll through fields to Bucknell Woods. At some point on here my GPS bounces out of its mount but fortunately it's also on a leash so it's a moment's work to remount it. A blast down the fire-road to a tight bend then a little working out where we are meant to go gets us on to a great bit of singletrack flowing down through beech and oak trees. All too soon we are on the road and it's a steady few Km to Knighton. I sip the last of my water from the Camelbak. I get to Knighton in 6hrs45 so just inside my projected pace.

Knighton cafe stop.

There's quite a gaggle (dunno what the collective noun for a group of bikepackers is) of riders in the Spar and at a cafe across the road. Just what the staff thought of twenty muddy cyclists suddenly turning up goodness knows. I think we cleaned them out of bottled water! A few bites to eat, refill the water, drink the rest then on my way.

Another rider, Richard, leaves at the same time as me, we'd been riding together for a while earlier on but he'd pressed on ahead about 20Km earlier. The first big climb out of Knighton and we both decide to walk, I can feel a small twinge of cramp but nothing that a bit of walking can't deal with. We walk a bit further than the gradient dictated then it was back on the bikes and keep on rolling.

Up, down, gates, lanes, tracks. It was all nice flowing riding. The route then pulled on to moorland and everything opened up with great views over the Mid-Wales countryside. I was now about a minute behind Richard, he was always in sight but I was basically riding alone. The riding was quick with just the occasional ditch that had you thinking "Can I ride through it?" Some you could, others looked a little too much. I like riding through heather moorland, you get a feeling of floating on a sea of purple and it's nearly always well draining so doesn't get too boggy for most of the year. All too soon I'm blasting down the descent off the moor and in to Llanbister. The light's now starting to fade so on with the rear light as there's a little bit of road work then it's more up.

Once out of the fields there's more moorland tracks but by the time I drop to a road that crosses the ridge I definitely need the front light. Through a farmyard and up again. Away to the east there are lights descending the previous block of moorland. I catch my erstwhile companion who's taking a short break and I get the good line down to the next farm. From here to the cafe is forestry tracks and tarmac lanes. The forestry is mainly uphill though and drags somewhat.

The long descent into Bwlch y Sarnau chills me and I need to put my spare clothes on once inside (I've been riding in just a short sleeved top to this point), Richard arrives a few minutes later. A pot of tea and a bowl of soup for starters. That all goes down nicely. I'm looking at the cake. Hmm. Maybe a refill of tea first. Finally I give in and have a piece of coffee cake. Richard heads off, I won't see him again until the end, as it turns out I don't see any other riders once I leave the cafe. More riders arrive at regular intervals but eventually after nearly an hour I decide I'd better make a move and after refilling my Camelbak head out.

Belinda, an absolute star.


The chill air is a shock and the first few hundred metres is downhill so no chance of warming up. Turn left and along a track, this turns muddy then mucky when it passes a silage feed cage for cattle - riding through 20cm of slurry isn't nice! I aim for the next few puddles to clean things up. Getting to Llanidloes is mainly road though quite a bit of up and down. The 20Km takes me 1hr20 and I ride through town just as the Co-op is closing. I've no need of restocking though. I do need to stop to get more stones out of my shoes. I take the opportunity to text Cath that I'm feeling good and will probably push on to the finish in one go. While I'm sat there a bloke in drag passes me - "Charity pub crawl mate". "Ah".

The next climb is another steep one and I'm walking it. Once it eases I'm back on the bike and making good time. The road turns to track but it's easy going. Most of the gates are open on this bit and when I reach the next lane and head down the hill I'm on terrain I've done before. From here through Hafran Forest to Staylittle is familiar. Somewhere on one of the forestry tracks I'm told there was someone kipping by the side of the track but I didn't see them. As I blast down the road out of the forest my back light dies - shouldn't be a problem as there's no traffic and not much road left anyway.

The climb out of Staylittle to Dylife is a drag, just the wrong angle for me at this time and I walk quite a bit of it. As I drop down to the pub I see a couple of sets of lights near the top of the climb on the other side. Just 15Km to go. As I start the climb I take on more food, just walking along getting energy in. Then I lose the line. There's no tyre tracks on the other side of the gate but I can't see where anyone has gone. Eventually by dint of lifting the bike up and shining the light around I spot a faint track but I have to carry the bike up the banking to get to it.

This is the start of the sting in the tale. The next 2Km to the top of the ridge is a push, carry, push again, look for gate through fence, keep pushing. On the ridge there's a track, easy going. I can still see the lights of the two riders in front of me. But why are they up there and I'm heading downhill? I stop and check the GPS, yes this is right. I keep descending until eventually I come to a stream and the uphill starts again.

A clean bike is a happy bike.

I'm tired now and as I ride along I periodically check the GPS (the screen is off by default to save batteries). Damn! I've overshot the turning. I turn back and head up the only track. After a couple of hundred metres I check again. I'm on the wrong track. Back down to the fire road. I wander back and forth trying to find the track that matches the line on the GPS screen but there isn't one. Cursing I start climbing the only track again. I reach a gate - keep going I'll figure it out when I get out of this damn wood.

On top of the ridge, I'm on the right line again!? How? Never mind, this bit's a blast. Keep going and watch out for the left turn where the bridleway drops to the road. Except I don't see one. After overshooting I retrace my steps. No track, what's going on? Never mind I'll chuck the bike over the fence and wing it. On the other side of the fence is another track! Just beyond that is the track descending in to the dark. This is steep but I don't care, just ride and keep going.

Cross the road and the next bridleway is a push - the forestry has been felled and it's unrideable. Out of the woods and the route traverses a grassy hillside. I keep getting lost, losing height and having to push my way back up hill. Eventually I get on to the final bridleway but it's only rideable in bits, there's gorse and old stone walls in the way. Finally it's rideable and it's all downhill.

With the bright lights of Llanbrynmair ahead it's full steam ahead. Then I lose concentration, catch the edge of a rut and I'm airborne. No damage done but I take the rest of the descent a bit more circumspectly.

I roll back into the community centre at 0348 for an overall time of 18hrs53mins, good enough for a black badge. The fastest time was 15hrs09mins.

I done gone and got me one of these!!

After a couple of hours' kip (and being woken by some lovelorn teenage girl sobbing and shouting for her boyfriend) it's time to get up and start spotting the incoming riders. Cath arrives, she had a great first day getting 150Km in to the route but a bit of a 'mare on the second day.

Cath finishing

What have I done to her!


Overall I think I got just about everything right, possibly my best ITT to date:

  • I ate well but still had some food in reserve;
  • I drank properly, I ran out of water just before Knighton so perfect timing, refilled there and at Bwlch y Sarnau which did me to the finish;
  • I only got the occasional twinge of cramp but didn't need to get off and walk to sort it out.

The Strava bit or it didn't happen:

Thursday, 29 September 2016

Iceland Pt 1

We come from the land of ice and snow,
From the midnight sun,
Where the hot springs glow.
Immigrant Song, Led Zeppelin


When Robert Plant wrote the above on a plane back from Reykjavik he missed out "weird", "wacky", "jaw dropping" or any other myriad terms you can pull from a thesaurus that apply to Iceland. Given the war like tone of the rest of the song, it's ironic that Iceland is one of the few countries in the world that doesn't have to go to war to increase the size of its territory, nature just keeps going: "Here, have some more".

Coloured landscape at Landmannalaugar

They should really hand out jaw straps at the exit to Keflavik airport, all those cliched phrases about the place are true, the locals must have a phrase for "tourist standing open mouthed at something". The landscape looks as if they got hold of H R Giger and Salvador Dali and just let them get on with it. Cobalt blue pools? Check! Blood red streams? Not a problem. Rainbow coloured scree? Did that before breakfast! Vast lava fields that can be used as Mordor? Of course!



There's something else that will make your jaw drop - the prices. Coming from the UK where everything is driven by pricing as low as possible Iceland is a shock, typically add 50% to UK prices as your starting point. Surprisingly one of the few things that isn't expensive is fuel which is around 10% above the prices you'd pay at an urban filling station in the UK. For nine days touring around the SE of the country and covering nearly a thousand kilometres we used just £50 of fuel.

The harshness of the landscape and the relatively isolated location do mean that Icelanders have their own take on things: a 3 metre wingspan eagle and a Massey Ferguson 135 tractor as garden ornaments? In the same garden BTW. Then again they did have a geothermal vent steaming away in their back garden.

If the landscape is totally over the top then the weather is more than a match. The weather forecast on the other hand takes British understatement to extremes: a gentle breeze translates as "hoolie" for the northerners among us or "A woman rang in to say a hurricane is on the way" for the southerners.

Although we took the bikes (see the next post) this was as much a general holiday as a biking one, there's a lot to see. A day and a bit seeing the sights in Reykjavik is enough city for us rural folk. We managed to see most of the museums, some traditional and a bit staid/boring but others were really interesting like the Viking long house that was preserved "underneath" a modern building. Eating out at night was fine, if expensive, though we probably dropped in to the "tourists out of their depth" on the first night. On the second night I remembered seeing a small restaurant as we'd walked in to town and it was much better. It's worth noting that although the restaurants are pricey the food is very, very good 

The next day after our first trip to a thermal baths we head out of town (although it's the capital, Reykjavik is little bigger than a British provincial town) towards Thingvellir, the world's first parliament. When we get there the car park is packed plus there's four coaches, as a result the first viewpoint is packed. As we walk further along there are fewer and fewer people. By the time we get back to the car the car park is almost empty. With the weather being poor we decide not to go for a ride but to continue along "The Golden Circle" tourist bit. It turns out that we are following a "wave" of tourists, we get to each attraction just as most of them are about to leave.

Strokkur letting off steam

Next up is Geysir the eponymous, err, geysir. Due to geological activity it is regarded as dormant these days and only the smaller Strokkur performs on a regular basis. The eruptions are all very sudden and it's a bit hit and miss getting a shot. The final stop is GullFoss which is simply stunning, even several hundred other tourists can't detract from the spectacle.




We camp in the area for a couple of nights doing a ride (again, see next post) before heading towards the centre of the island stopping at the rebuilt viking long house at Stong. 

Inside the reconstructed long house at Stong.

A short walk behind this reveals a fantastic set of waterfalls. This is something that we've not really expected, sure there are the well known falls like Gullfoss, Dettifoss and Skogarfoss but there are countless others which whilst not having the sheer size and impact of the main tourist oriented falls are nevertheless just as impressive or beautiful.






After more jaw dropping, stop the car and take a photo, vistas we arrive at Landmannalaugar. This is one of the main hiking centres in Iceland (it's the starting point for the Laugevegur Trail, reckoned to be one of the best trails in the world) and is known for the multi-coloured mountains and its hot springs. The name translates as "community hot springs". 

The campsite at Landmannalaugar

The campsite is a little "firm" and we have to pitch the tent using rocks rather than pegs. Iceland is as close to being a cashless society, even here in what might be described as "The middle of nowhere" you can pay for the campsite using your debit card. The site attendant suggests we only pay for one night in case we change our minds. The weather is, hmm, bracing.

In the morning we prevaricate for a while, decide not to go for a bike ride but go for a walk instead. We do a combination of three trails and come to the conclusion that we'd have struggled to stay on our bikes in the wind. Deciding to cut our losses we head out of the area that afternoon and head down to Skogarfoss on the coast.








Skogarfoss is one of the posterchildren of Icelandic waterfalls, plainly visible from Route 1 it's a simple walk to the base. Even better is that the campsite is all of 100 metres away, though the constant noise through the night takes a bit of getting used to.


The big waterfall you can walk behind

Like this.

At the top of Skogarfoss
Just along the coast is a turning to a low lying glacier. Low lying as in 50 metres a.s.l. What is shocking is the amount that it has receded in the last twenty years - nearly a kilometre.

Heading back west towards Reykjavik we stop in the Hveragerthi area. More hot springs (this area is known for them) and then increasingly bad weather means we chicken out of camping for our next to last night so find a hotel which is very nice.

Our last day is taken up trying to stay dry interspersed with a visit to a geothermal power station and the Blue Lagoon thermal baths - yes it's really tacky and touristy but I suppose it's got to be done. Then it's back to the airport to drop off the hire car and check in at the hotel. We pack the bikes in to their bags in the foyer, grab a meal, arrange a 5am alarm call and we are done.

And what's with the horses?