Sweet Dreams are made of this

I'm flat on the road leading to Honister Pass screaming in pain. If there was anyone (really) close to hear by then they'd think I'd broken my leg but it's my right hamstring which has a habit of spontaneously going into cramp. This episode has been brought on by the wind blowing me off the bike. I walk the rest of the way to the summit.

I grew up in the Lakes and have done lots of stuff there: fell walking and running; climbing; biking, so the Lakeland 200 would be a good way of visiting old haunts. I've wanted to do it for several years but somehow each year things didn't happen. A prolonged dry spell and with a forecast for it to continue I made the rather late decision on Easter Monday to set off on Friday morning as early as possible. The forecast was also for being a bit cooler than recently which always helps. Being a loop you can start anywhere you want, the supplied GPX starts/finishes in Staveley but that's as much because most people would be coming from the south and that's the nearest point. I settled on starting from Coniston which meant that the second biggest climb was done right at the start and the crux section of Black Sail Pass and Scarth Gap came while I was still relatively fresh.

I'm pushing quite a bit of Walna Scar, my legs haven't warmed up yet.

There's the turn off to Goat's Water and Dow Crag, an old climbing haunt. The last time I'd been up there was to scatter a friend's ashes who'd died from an overdose.

The wind had nearly got me earlier just dropping off the top of Walna Scar when it nearly pushed me off the track so I had to walk a hundred metres or so (downhill on an easy track) until it was safe to ride again. 

Sunrise over the Lickle Valley

 

There's some really nice riding by the lovely named River Lickle and skirting to the south of Stephenson Ground that I'd not done before then it's the rocky descent to The Newfield.

Ah, The Newfield, we spent many a Sunday in here post climbing or other activity. One time: Simon, a Cornishman known as "Arr", and Pete (universally known as Nitto for some reason) decided that they'd jump into the Duddon from Birks Bridge as you do, in January. After said activity we retired to The Newfield and played one of their old university drinking games where you took it in turns to say "Arr" and if Nitto didn't like how you said it he drank your beer! Only ever seemed like one winner there. A couple of years ago whilst riding the Jenn Ride I mentioned to the landlord that I remembered him from when we visited in the 1980s. He stared at me: "That. Was. My. Dad!", Oops! "You're banned" With a twinkle in his eye.

I twiddle up the lane to Birks Bridge and I hear a bike approaching behind. He's the first person I've seen since I set off. We stop to chat, he's off on a quick loop over Wrynose Pass, turns out he's from a village not far from where I live.

Harter Fell is a long steady climb, a bit of a rocky plateau then a good descent. Halfway along the top there's a worrying "Pffft" as the rear tyre burps and partially deflates. Oh, well, get the pump out. Hmm, is that a cuckoo? As I begin to try to inflate the tyre the bird starts up again. The pump isn't working so plan B is to use the CO2 canister which works first time. All right cuckoo we've heard you. Drop the seat for the descent which is great fun.

The start of the descent off Harter Fell

A new bit of bridleway to me leads down the valley but there's a worrying noise from the bike. On inspection the lower jockey wheel is stuck, it rotates forward OK (ish) but won't move when spinning the pedals backwards.. Curious. A little later it's cleared itself, must have been some dirt jammed in there. Another odd loop to take in a bridleway rather than road and I arrive in Boot. It's shut.

The old water mill at Boot

 

Across the valley from Boot is Gate Crag. Four of us had headed up there prospecting for unclimbed routes. Al Phizacklea found one and about 10m up posed around hanging from a large hold. A short while later keen to get the second ascent I set off up it. Grabbed the hold which promptly broke off and deposited me on the (fortunately sloping) ground with luckily only bruises to show.

The old corpse road over to Wasdale doesn't go quite to plan as I mistakenly take the path to Miterdale instead! A bit of cross country through tussocks gets me back on track.

Down to Burnmoor Tarn which is very unusual in that the main feeder beck and the outflow are very close together, maybe 200 metres apart which must make for some strange hydrographics.

Wasdale is the first time the route crosses paths with the Bob Graham Round (BGR), no matter which way you do it there's a big climb out of the valley. I was definitely "feeling it" by the time I got here way back in 2005.

The Wasdale Head Inn. I had my stag do there, ended up with a Karaoke session, don't think they did much trade after that.

I didn't feel much like stopping again so soon after Boot so pressed on up Black Sail Pass, the crux of the whole route.

I'd been having problems with my rucksack - no matter how I packed it it always seemed to niggle and dig in my back. Finally as we headed up Black Sail Pass to get to Pillar Rock I decided to sort it out once and for all. I emptied the sack and got my mate to push on it - the niggle was still there. The sack had a sleeve for a foam mat to sit next to your back, out with that and the culprit was found! A peg (piton) had fallen in there. A comfy sack once more.

Black Sail Pass is our next meeting with the Bob Graham as it drops off Pillar and head onwards up the screes of Kirkfell. It takes almost the quickest route between here and Honister Pass. The LL200 will take a more circuitous line.

We usually approached Pillar Rock from Wasdale Head via Black Sail Pass and Robinson's Cairn but for our visit in 1984 we approached via Ennerdale. This was before the days of mountain bikes so would normally have been a long walk from the car park at Gillerthwaite but sat in the car was a rather large and sharp blade for a bench saw. Tony King had been sharpening it for a woodsman who lived next to the Youth Hostel. We were due to meet Dave Kirby and Penny Melville at the gate.

We were about to set off when the woodsman looked at our sacks and asked where we were heading. "Oh, hop in, I can give you a lift to the bottom of the path". Dave and Penny pulled up as we were walking down to his car on the other side of a rise in the track. Soon we were at the foot of the climb up to the rock, our lift headed back by a different track. It was a lovely warm day and the steep but now thankfully short walk-in was soon dispatched. Sitting by the beck in the sun someone noted, "Isn't that Dave?" Sure enough heading up the path were Dave and Penny.

"You lot don't half shift!" he panted as he got within earshot. We looked at each other guiltily wondering if we should let him know.

They hadn't seen us get in the car so when they got to the gate a minute or so after we had walked out of sight we were nowhere to be seen. "No problem, we'll see them round the next bend." At every bend the track ahead was bare and they sped up sure that they would catch us up: "It's a long straight after this bend, we'll definitely see them!" They had taken just fifteen minutes longer to walk the whole of the valley than we had in a car!

The route down from the pass is hardly less arduous than the ascent and I'm only able to ride for the bottom third. Scarth Gap though lower is just as rough.

Heading from Gatesgarth towards Honister and I'm in bottom gear on the flat due to the wind.

"What's your name?", "Paul", "Where are you?" "I don't know." That was worrying. We were doing the Borrowdale Bash and Paul had decided to fall off at the only point where the track leading off from the Honister Pass road wasn't protected by high bracken and had fallen into a rocky gully. We get him down to Seathwaite and the ambulance takes him to Carlisle for a scan, fortunately nothing serious.

 

The last bit of the Bash leads me into Keswick, it's taken 10 1/2 hours to get here.

 

The first bike shop doesn't have any jockey wheels, aagh! Fortunately the next one does, £11 please sir. Back to the Spar to get refreshments and more provisions and I make the jockey wheel change in their car park, the original was actually seized, I'd probably effectively had a brake on for most of the ride so far!

The route follows the BGR again out of Keswick as far as the car park on Latrigg then heads round to the Glenderamackin valley. Cath had warned me not to attempt to ride the rocky section here but there was no chance - the wind meant I could only just stand let alone ride a bike. The next bit was good riding and once on the other side of the valley and out of the wind it was much easier going.

The bit you really don't want to fall off!

 

Crossing the A66 I decide to get out the wind and ring Cath. I'm tucked under a wood at the start of The Coach Road before I find anywhere just "quiet". 

The first dip in The Coach Road is the last time the LL200 and BGR cross paths, the BGR sticks mostly to the west of the Lakes, Fairfield being as far east as it ventures. The LL200 on the other hand manages to visit nearly all the main valleys of the Lakes, just a few to the far east that are missed out.

Heading to Pooley Bridge after The Coal Road I make a mistake in not putting the windshirt back on and I chill on the descents. I'm pretty cold by the time I get to Pooley Bridge, even a coffee in the shop and the next climb don't really warm me up.

 

It's starting to get dark now. Rather than follow the ridge from here to High Street the route drops back to the valley before climbing back up again before another descent and yet another climb back up. The first descent is a blast I just get to the bottom before I need to actually put on my lights. 

I'm still cold and decide that I'll find a barn or something similar to get out of the wind and bivy for the night, I might even ask a farmer if I could use a building. The first one I decide to check out I turn my lights to the door and am met with barking. No good there then. The next faces into the wind. The third has been used as a lambing shed but is unoccupied but is empty. The floor is, shall we say, slightly soiled but it's not too bad. In we go.

It takes me about an hour to warm up. 

I awake and check the time 0230 and I need a pee. I'll get up now and get going. I'm away by 0300 and the route begins with the first big climb up Breda Fell. Once on top the wind makes the singletrack awkward.  Seat down and the next descent to Hartsop is a blast in the dark. It's still only 4am! 

I stop before the next climb from Hartsop for breakfast.

Off in the gloom to the right lies Raven Crag, Threshwaite Cove. A friend who began climbing in the 1960s said it was known about back then but left as it was definitely a crag for future generations. It wasn't until the mid 1980s when the first route was done at a standard at the top of what the climbers of the 1960s were capable of, the rest are quite a bit harder still.

The next climb up to The Knott is the biggest on the route. I remember this from a school fell-walking trip, it was a pain then, it's still a pain (with a bike) fifty years later. Once on top there's a bit more pushing until you get to the Roman road running across the top of High Street. Even two thousand years later it's still rideable. The wind is back and making things very cold, I've little feeling in my hands. Then you leave it for one of the few Lakeland tops that I've ridden a bike to the summit, Thornthwaite Beacon, notable for its remarkable cairn some 4 metres high.

What goes up must come down and I pick my line through the mist until I spot the main part of the descent heading off right. There's another "pfft" and my rear tyre burps again and is flat. It's so windy I need to walk downhill for several hundred metres to find some form of shelter. Even then my cold hands can't unscrew the valve so I have to resort to pliers to do so. I use the last of the CO2 to mostly inflate the tyre. The rest of the descent will need care, really not sure what Garburn Pass will be like with a tyre in this state. There are sections that are unrideable, not least because of the steep hillside to the right and the fact that I'm wearing a very slippery windshirt and I'd be unlikely to stop very soon.

Some of the few easy tracks lead to the foot of Garburn, a push up this (into the wind) and a wary descent just trying to stay upright and things have warmed up enough to take off the windshirt. The Three Rivers descent leads down to Staveley. A detour to the bike shop to get more CO2 and provisions then back to the route.

Heading westwards with the destination now in sight there's a couple of riders heading towards me. I recognise one as Alan Goldsmith the proginator of the Lakeland Loop. We have a chat, he's somewhat stunned that I'm attempting it in the current wind conditions. "Just the easy bit to do now." he notes, unfortunately he doesn't know the state of my legs.

An ice cream in Troutbeck then over to Ambleside via the last technical descent of Jenkin's Crag. I'm in no mood to tarry in the town, way too full of tourists. The next climb is a walk, no way can my legs manage a 20% gradient.

Let's ride, err...

Without realising it I'm slowing down dramatically, just about any upward rise means I'm walking. Even when I get to a section I know I can ride in my condition I'm presented with wind blown trees blocking the way. Finally I'm at the top of the last climb, just the descent of Lawson Park down to the road leading round the head of the lake back to Coniston. Except the top 200m or so is again blocked by wind blow and takes some time to circumvent. The lower descent is ace.

The end is nigh!

On the road I very nearly overcook it on the very last bend of the last descent, eek! Stand up, pedal for a few revs, coast, pedal, coast. I return to my start point and hit stop on the GPS, 38hrs 1 minute. I'm absolutely knackered.

Back at the van I ring Cath, she's been worried as she though I would have finished several hours ago and was thinking of calling the police to look for me.

That was really hard, harder than something like the Cairngorms Loop. Glad I've done it but not something I'd do again in a hurry (or even slowly).

BB200, the Covid Edition

You know that scene in Independence Day where Will Smith and Jeff Goldbloom have taken the alien fighter from Area 51 and are inside the alien mothership having downloaded the virus and left a primed atomic bomb as a present, are then being chased by other alien fighters as the mahoosive doors in the side of the ship are being closed and they get out in the nick of time?

Well this was nothing like that.

With the "fluid" situation regarding Covid this year's BB200 was, erm, different. Firstly, rather than being in Mid-Wales it was a bit further south around the Brecon Beacons, an area I really didn't know - I can't even remember taking family holidays there - certainly never walked or biked in the area. The second main difference was that rather than being on the second weekend of October and starting from one location we could choose when (in October) and where on the loop we started/finished.

Event entered, GPX received it was time to start planning.

Having decided on one starting point just before the biggest climb of the route we changed our minds and began about 40km before that which meant that we'd hit two, possibly all three of the towns on the route during opening hours. You've got to think about these things.

People

Debouching from the sunken track I head up a thankfully dry and firm farm track. A fancy car is heading down. "Are you lost?" says the woman driver in a very well-to-do voice, "Err, probably!", "Follow me, I'll show you where you need to go." With that she reversed at speed back up the track - obviously done that before. Once I'd told her where I was trying to get to she explained where the track went and what to avoid. Very nice woman.

There's a shout from the driver of the flat bed Transit, whatever he'd said it didn't sound like the usual anti-cyclist tirade, turns out they were looking for a farm or something, "sorry mate, I've never been here before so I'd be no help."

There's definitely fresh tracks in the mud. Two MTBs and one gravel bike. On the big climb I see a figure ahead pushing a bike up a steep grass slope. The slope is actually rideable but the mud bank after the stream definitely isn't so I might as well walk to the top. The rider waves, I wave back. Eventually I catch up, it's a woman on a gravel bike: "Ah, you're the set of tracks I've been following this morning!" A few words in reply but I'm now back on the bike and breathing heavily so can't reply, sorry. I get to the top and look back, she's heading back down the hill, maybe she's dropped something. Whatever, she's the only other rider I see.

I never did see the two MTBs though occasionally there'd be a wet set of tyre prints on a rock.

It's about an hour after dark and I've just shut the gate at the end of a farm track when a car approaches and indicates to head down the track so I open the gate for them. "Thank you!" says the farmer with a smile. Apart from a couple of walkers he'll be the last person I see until the finish in another twelve hours. Being alone on ITTs is common, you need to deal with it.

I ride on in my small pool of light.

Going past properties at night can be tricky, you need to keep your lights pointed down rather than shining into bedroom windows and waking people up. Then the dogs start barking. Nothing much to do about that but carry on and hope that the gates are easy to negotiate and don't creak or bang.

Kit

It's quite chilly. I decide to take two pairs of long fingered gloves rather than one short and one long. I start with arm warmers and a windshirt thinking I'll take them off later in the day and put them back on at nightfall. It turns out that I never take them off but just undo the windshirt on climbs. A buff (also used as face covering for shops) is my only other temperature regulator. Ease off on the climbs so as not to sweat as the descents could be fast.

BEEP! My GPS shows low battery so despite only having done 60km I swap in my spare set. Hmm. BEEP! It's 1am and again my GPS is showing a low battery warning despite only having done another 100km. A good job I'd thought to buy some plain AAs when at the filling station, just hope they'll last to the end. The rechargeables are Duracell, maybe they're at end of their life.

I'd be worried about riding this route with tubes. The farmers have been out cutting their hedges and the roads are littered with the thorns and brash that haven't yet had time to become weathered or trampled to soft pulp by passing cars.

One section of moorland down another three to go. I'm passing through the farm on the edge of the moor when my bar light starts flashing, the battery's running out of juice. Hmm, a long way to go yet, if the other light goes I'll have to sit things out until dawn. It's been hard enough distinguishing the ruts and mud with both lights, it will be much harder with just the one especially since I'll have to keep it on one of the lower power settings to see me through the next six hours or so. The dead battery pack is probably fifteen years old, maybe time for a new one. Annoying, you need to be able to trust your kit.

I ride on in my smaller pool of light.

Wildlife

A Red Kite is quartering the hillside. She flies close, silent, tail rotating to hold her steady in the breeze, her massive wingspan shading that part of the sky. Close enough that I can see the outline of each pale feather on her head, eyes unblinking, she's obviously checking me out but decides it's too early, she'll come back and pick over my carcase later.

A pair of spots glint in the dark. It's a fox. It scurries back and forth unsure what this one-eyed monster is, never too far away that I can't also see the shape of its body in the faint beam of my light. The cattle further on were less sanguine. Somehow I drift away from the line and have to heft my bike over a fence and head across the field until I find the track again Then it's downhill, with that comes speed, even though I can't go too quickly because of the light levels, and chills.

Bats flit around in the dusk, a sign that I need my lights. No idea what species, too quick in the low light for my eyes to determine. Late in the year for them I suppose, but they need food to have enough weight to survive their winter roost.

Mind

I only check the GPS for the mapping, ignoring the data screen except at specific points. I'm pleased to note I'm on time at the first town, down at the next. I'm also pleased to note that I reach my next milestone at 9pm, 125km done, 75km to go, 20hrs is doable. If only.

I'd miscounted the moorland sections, there's five. A myriad of tracks twisting hither and thither make progress frustrating in the dark and my "line" is a sawtooth as I drift away then ride back to the line. There's full cloud cover so I can't fix on a star or constellation for a bearing and ride to that. The last section finishes with a steep descent, would be great in the daylight but not at 4am having been on the go for over nineteen hours.

I carry on in my small pool of light.

My mind's playing tricks on me. I've turned off the main road and turned right and right again so I'm heading back towards town? I'm not, the left bends are bigger than the right and I'm heading the other way but I'm totally confused. It's as if I've been blindfolded and spun round and asked to point to North.

I trudge on in my small pool of light.

It's getting lighter, the dawn is near, and I'm at the end of the last off-road. There's form to the land now, faint light and shade rather than mirk and dark. The main road arrives soon enough and climbs away at that awkward angle you think should be easy but isn't. I'm wishing for the summit at every turn. The pedalling suddenly eases and I'm picking up speed. The downhill is short and the van appears where we'd left it, no police stickers or anything to say: "You shouldn't be here". 22hrs45mins. Twelve and a half hours for the first 125km, ten and a bit hours for the next 75km. I'm knackered so leave the bike lying outside, grab the sleeping kit and crash out for a couple of hours.

Perhaps it was something like that. Elvis has left the building.

Stubborn is as Stubborn does

"You're supposed to be my FRIEND!"

I'm lying on my back, head down on a 40 degree slope of wet heather above a turbulent River Tilt nearing the end of this year's Cairngorms Loop. My bike is on top of me with my lower leg jammed between the chainring and the bottom bracket. I've been walking this bit because of the wind and still ended up like this. It's actually the second fall, the first saw me fall onto rocks with my elbow. It's not really my bike's fault.

I struggle to push the bike away, any potential injuries to my leg aren't of concern, I lean over the bike holding back sobs.

"Look," I say out loud because no-one's near enough to hear "you are just really tired. Get on with it."

Just sixteen loosely congregated riders were in the car park at the start on Saturday morning. Colin Cadden, who'd taken on the organiser's role from Steve Wilkinson for this year, was trying to get us all ready in time but herding cats would have been simpler. There were one or two who I knew already and a couple who I'd conversed with online so there were bits of chats going on. In the end we rolled out four minutes late, not that it would make any difference over the course of a day or two. Cath had entered but decided her fitness wasn't up to it so was doing the Tour of the Cairngorms which is basically the outer loop less the sting in the tail.

There'd been talk of people going for fast times but Huw Oliver had broken the record a couple of weeks earlier so that particular hare wasn't riding this weekend. My plan was just to get round.

The initial pace was quick but tempered by a decent headwind. I rode alongside Phil Clarke who I'd not seen for a while, he was on a singlespeed Jones so speed was limited on the flatter sections. There was also a rider on a singlespeed fat bike. I'd joked about bringing mine along but decided against it. Pretty soon we were at the crossing of the A9 and Phil pulled away on the climb because, well, he had a single speed. "That's the last I'll see of him." I thought.

The track to Sronpadruigh Lodge was fast, helped by the now tailwind. The burn crossings were low which augured well in comparison to three years ago. Then it was a bit of bog trotting to get to the singletrack alongside Loch an Dun. 

 

This is just ace and all rideable though I did get blown off by gusts of wind a couple of times near the end. A rider caught me here and we rode together as far as Rothiemurchus. The next river crossing which had stopped last year's group ride in its tracks was low and we just rode through it. My companion lived at the foot of the glen so we got the turn off the road right unlike the pair ahead of us who shot past it.

We head into the lower reaches of Glen Feshie and wend our way along the singletrack through the meadows. A slight confusion as to the exact route at Feshie Bridge and we are heading through the woods on Feshie Moor quickly followed by Rothiemurchus Forest. This always seems to take longer than it should. Still we pop out onto the road and arrive at the shop in Glenmore in just 4hrs30mins, really quick and some forty five minutes quicker than previously. I'm surprised to see Phil there, he'd only been a few minutes ahead but of course in the woods even 30 seconds is out of sight. A quick loo visit, a drink and I'm ready to go. Phil leaves at the same time.

Simon and Hamish

The Nethy is low, last time it was a brown torrent, so I refill with water again. Then it's the climb up Bynack Mor, I get so far then get off and push, no point in red-lining just for the sake of it - there's another 220km to go. As I near the top of the steepest section a rider passes me - he's managed the whole climb without dabbing which is very impressive in the windy conditions. I do see him dab once a little later but I think we can let him off with that. "I'm Hamish" he says as I catch him "I'm waiting here for my mate" - he spent most of this section as intervals, riding off and then waiting for his mate.

I struggle on the next section to the Fords of Avon (pronounced A'an) and take one OTB where I bash and bruise my legs. The first burn, the Uisge Dubh, is crossed dry, last time it was waist deep! The fords themselves are low and the crossing is easy. 

Compare the above with these shots from 2017

 

 

I don't think I rode any more of the section from there to the Lairig an Loaigh on the Spearfish as I did last time on the rigid Solaris, maybe the wind played a part but I just couldn't get going. Four of us reached the pass together and then it was the blast down into Glen Derry. The others were quicker than me but I catch one up, Hamish's mate, - "puncture or valve playing up" - he'd got kit to sort it so no point stopping. Further down we pass a chap on a gravel bike heading to the Fords, we think he was under the misapprehension it was rideable!

Once in the glen floor it's very quick riding again apart from the occasional water bar. Most of these have now got bypass lines to ride but there's still one or two "big" ones that can catch you unawares, I'd taken a tumble on one last time as then the light was fading. We reach Bob Scott's in full daylight, in fact I'm nearly two hours up on last time. I've now just one companion who introduces himself as Ian. "You rode that glen smoothly" he says "you just swept away from me." - I'm confused as he must mean me since there's no-one else around.

Straight through the Linn of Dee woods and the long drag up to the Geldie Burn. This is straight into the wind and I begin to struggle but we're catching another rider. It turns out to be Steve Waters and we'll end up riding together to Aviemore. The Geldie looked wide but really low, good news for later. Part of this year's rules was no use of bothies (the MBA have closed all of theirs due to Covid-19) but was surprised to see lights at the Red House. It turned out to be an MBA working party getting it refurbished for future use. No stopping, on over the watershed.

Lights went on at the end of the vehicle track and we managed to ride a surprising amount given that some of the "holes" cast by our lights were rather deep. Steve took a couple of tumbles, no injury as they were into bog not stone. Ahead were a couple of lights but we didn't catch them. Ian noted that he felt quite spooked by this terrain and scenario but having grown up in the country it felt quite normal to me. In fact it felt a bit weird having company on a night section of an ITT, I was totally on my own the last time I crossed here. Eventually the Eidart appeared, or rather the sound of the waterfall began to be heard over the wind, and the rickety bridge was more rickety with a board or two now broken. This time I managed to find the singletrack that winds in and out of the muddy argo-cat trail - much nicer riding. The forecast rain is just starting.

As we are dropping down towards the Feshie my light starts to flash. Surely it can't be running out of juice? Unless it had turned on in the bag and been discharging for most of the ride. My recharging system only really works when I'm not riding so I was stuffed. Fortunately Steve had a spare Joystick! Game back on! Then we came to the Feshie.

"Err, we've gone wrong lads, should have turned off about 50m back". 

We find the track leading to the landslip and drop into the tracks in the glen. "Your mudguard is flapping around" I'd wondered what the buzzing sound was, turned out a couple of the zip ties holding the Mudhugger on had snapped. A simple fix. Hmm, bad luck comes in threes?

Then we drop into the Feshie river bed, err, this is wrong. We back track through the undergrowth and get on the track. Then my chain breaks! Fortunately I've a quicklink so we get that fitted. While getting out my tools and spares I notice I've no spare brake pads, I'd moved them to the Solaris for the YD300 and not moved them back. I say nothing. Lights appear, "Who's coming up the glen at this time of night?" It turned out that we'd set off on the track in the wrong direction and it was us going the wrong way. The lights turned out to be Sean Belson, Hamish and his mate. The glen is mostly a blast, we pass the bothy, this turns out to be "locked" by the simple expedient of the estate renting it out as accommodation! I notice that two of our group were missing - nothing untoward they'd planned to bivy in the Glen so had stopped. It later transpired that they scratched at that point.

The tracks were fast until we got to the Allt Garbhlach, last time I'd crossed this higher up but now we'd reached the bit where it had really washed out and it involved a steep downclimb and climb out manhandling our bikes. After this things sped up and soon we were on the road. Rear lights on (don't know why we didn't see a single car!) and then it was time trial mode to get to the 24hr filling station in Aviemore.

Where the fuck did all the time go? The two hours I'd been "ahead" had all gone and I arrived here at the same time as last time. Sean had arrived a little earlier and had ordered his grub. You couldn't go into the shop so you ordered at the kiosk, not easy when you don't know what they stock. A coffee and a bacon butty later, oh, and a bollocking from the Polis for using a mobile on the forecourt (actually I'm turning it off as there's only 7% battery left - hence no more shots), and I'm ready to go.

"You don't hang around" notes Sean

"Starting to get cold and I've nothing else to do here."

"Where are you bivvying?" Ian asks. 

"I'm just heading on the route through the woods until I find a dry shelter or somewhere to bivy." 

"Mind if I join you?" 

"Not at all" 

And with that I set off. I turn off the Glenmore road and notice there's no lights behind me, oh well. I need to get some warmth into me before bivvying, fortunately the butty has done its job and I've plenty of energy. I pass where I bivvied last time and turn into the woods. A few km along the tracks and there's an old horsebox next to the track. Perfect. A bit of rearranging of the dry hay on the floor (really) and I'm just settling down when Sean rides past.

"I'm riding through. Steve's light is playing up so he and Ian have bivvied just outside Aviemore"

With that he rides on and I get into my quilt. It's 0200.

"What's that?" Something moves nearby. I'm not sure if it's a mouse or rat nestled in the hay near me or something just outside the horse box. I'm too tired to worry and drift off to sleep.

I wake at 0530 and there's just a bit of light in the sky so back on with my wet cycling kit (euch!), pack everything away and get going by 0550. No chance of using my stove because of all the hay. I notice that I'm only 100m away from a group of houses, shows how close you can bivy to folk. About fifteen minutes later there's a light at the side of the track. It's Phil who was putting away his bivy kit. Again we ride together, noting potential bivy spots amongst general chatter until again he pulls away his single speed being well the single speed he has to ride.

Alone again I push on, little energy in my legs or body, there's a tarp fluttering in the wind up above the track, it turns out to be a guy bivvying but I don't know if he's a rider or not. Quite how his tarp is offering any protection as it's set at about 2 metres above the ground. He waves and I wave back. I catch Phil up in Eag Mhor and we ride on through heather to the Dorbach burn. "One of my favourite bits of riding" he notes. Again he pushes on and I won't see him again.

The Burn of Brown is an easy crossing, it was this burn that was impassable three years ago, I say crossing, you actually cross it back and forth seven times. Tomintoul is still shut, I don't even ease up pedalling and turn into Glen Avon. Breakfast will have to be in Braemar 40km on. "Glen Avon's going to be a bitch in a headwind" Phil had noted. Actually it wasn't that bad for the most part. The worst bit was my drive train, it was making an awful racket. A five minute stop and application of oil sorted that out.

The singletrack around Loch Builg was nice apart from the gusting wind. The loch is meant to be in a wind funnel so if this wasn't so bad then it boded well for the rest of the route. No chance! I dropped into Glen Gairn and almost came to a halt. Even the flat sections along the glen floor were a real effort. Light showers hid the view and added to the fun. I'd already walked sections by the time I got to the fancy shooting hut at the foot of the Cullardoch climb. I walked nearly all of that. I'm at the summit when I notice a figure on the climb, probably Ian.

Even the descent from Cullardoch was a bit dicy with a cross wind but then I was on the descent through the trees to Invercauld, lovely. Braemar looked so close but you ride for a couple of km in the other direction to get to the bridge. Of course you then had that couple of km plus some more into a headwind to get to the village. Straight to the cafe. 

"Only customers using our app allowed" stated the sign. WTF! 

"How am I supposed to know that in advance? Plus my phone battery is dead." 

"Just fill out the card".

While waiting for my food to arrive, Steve Waters turns up. It turns out Ian was struggling a bit and since he'd arrived by train had realised he wasn't going make any of the Sunday services to get back home so was taking it a bit easier. An hour had gone by by the time we'd finished eating and chattering. I needed some medication for my arse which was really sore so headed to the Co-op.

Steve was long gone by now. I ate my ice cream while riding along looking for somewhere I could pull off the road and apply the arse cream. Slightly better. It's all road to the Linn of Dee but it's also into the wind and is hard work. Not as hard as the next section which is the only bit of the route that repeats, Linn of Dee to the Geldie Burn. This takes me an hour. My mood's worsening, I'm screaming obscenities at the wind. Just before the White Bridge I have to walk as I feel the first twinges of cramp. Normally I get this after about twelve hours so to get a day and a half into a ride is good for me. Doesn't do anything for speed though.

Then the Geldie. Yesterday this was benign, now it had risen substantially and was brown with flood water. Nothing for it but to wade across. It wasn't particularly deep, maybe knee high at worst but I knew there was more to come. Almost immediately there's two crossings of the Bynack Burn, the first of which looked really deep and strong flowing. A slight detour to find shallows meant trudging upstream along the middle of the burn until more shallows led to the other side.

The wind still hadn't let up and was pushing me around making what would normally be easy riding very hard work. As I approached the Tilt watershed there was more and more walking involved. I note the Tilt flowing down from the opposite side of the strath, I'm finally on the home stretch, just the Tilt to cross to get to the Sting in the Tail.

Then the wheels came off. By the time I got to the Tilt crossing I was in no mood to continue. Looking down the glen there were black clouds heading my way. I really didn't want to be up high in that lot, I really didn't want to have to cross the Tilt. I headed down the glen.

Even this was hard work - normally you'd do a couple of pedal strokes and freewheel for a minute or two. Not today, half a dozen pedal strokes and you got maybe three bike lengths before you had to pedal again. Plus my sore arse meant that I had to do all this standing up! It took nearly an hour and forty minutes to reach the car park. Cath had got there about ten minutes earlier. We got changed staccato due to all the dog walkers going past then headed to the pub for something to eat. Even the pint felt heavy.

I think my lack of mileage showed. The first 80km to Glenmore were really fast even accounting for being on a full suss rather than a rigid with the amount of road involved. Even with the high winds the section over Bynack Mor and Lairig an Loaigh I was over half an hour faster. Mechanicals and faffing/getting lost then ate up all that time gain. I ate reasonably well but probably not enough given how I felt on the second day, I should have stopped somewhere sheltered and cooked the food I'd brought with me rather than just pushing on.

JennRide 2019

Back to the Lakes and rolling in to the car park and the first four people we see we know. It's that kind of event. Tent up and it's off to Wheelbase to listen to a variety of short lectures ranging from bovine avoiding Highland Trails to windswept Asian plains.

Up early, well this is the Lakes in summer, breakfast in More then a bit of hanging around until around 9am we decide not to wait for the Grand Départ and set off. Familiar lanes lead to the top of a descent I've not done before, a bit blind and rocky and quite narrow, not one to be in a big pack descending really. Minor lanes lead to the ferry crossing on Windermere. We've just missed one sailing so by the time the ferry is back on our side pretty well everyone from the GD has arrived.

Rather a lot of cyclists on the ferry.

Once across I'm riding alongside Tony who's on an ebike and fairly shifting! He's only out for a short spin with his wife so after a couple of km he stops and waits for her. A check to see if Cath's OK before the climb over Claife Heights then I push on.

The first technical climb and I almost make it without dabbing, Stu Rider gets passed me and cleans it so now I've a target to keep up with. The descent past Wise E'en Tarn is fast, I don't realise how fast until I get home to discover I'm in the top ten on Strava! That never happens on a descent for me.

Riding round to the next bit of off-road I'm chatting to Alan Goldsmith about my bike and I make the stupid comment that I've finally got it dialled for climbing. "Now's your chance! This next one's tricky". And so it proved, I'd not done it before but got within a few bike lengths of the end of the difficulties. Annoyingly Alan got to within one.

A rocky descent into Grizedale before climbing up on The North Face trail and over towards Parkamoor.

A quick stop for something to eat and then on to one of the main descents of the route. This went well until about halfway down when I got the wrong line, stopped then as I tried to get going again went over the bars! Landing on bedrock hurts! Then I noticed something flapping on the bike - turns out the bolt holding my shifter to the brake had chosen that moment to disappear. A zip tie and a bit of tape from Mark (the chap in the shot above) and I was good to carry on.

Easy riding led to Torver and the deli at The Wilson Arms. Pete McNeil offered a bolt to fix my shifter but it was slightly too short. In the end Alan Goldsmith came to the rescue with a slightly longer one - "that'll be a DQ then" he remarked.

Up and over Torver Common, past Stephenson Ground and another rocky descent down to The Newfield Inn. Time for refreshments.

A couple of pints later and I was ready to go. Now the JennRide has a short option and a long option and the Newfield was the turning point for the short route. But it was only 3:45pm so way too early to start heading back. However I didn't really want to go over to Wasdale so decided to do a medium option of my own: Road up on to Ulpha Fell then cut right and take bridleways down to Boot then another BW along the valley floor to by the Woolpack Inn. Sorted!

By the time I got to my turn off the official route Stu Rider had caught me up again. The BW down the hillside was great, not technical but just nice fun. The one along the valley floor was a little different having been subject to some recent bulldozing in places to make it passable for farm vehicles.

There was a music festival on at The Woolpack so no stopping. On to the climb back over to Dunnerdale. This is basically a push for half an hour or so. As I reached the top of the steepest section I got a text from Cath - she was doing the same as me but using the roads in the valley as she didn't know the BWs. On the final track before the Wallowbarrow Descent I started with cramps which was a little annoying.

I got back to the Newfield three hours after leaving so time to grab something to eat. Tony Craig was there having come off on the rocky descent down to the pub - he'd end up getting a (expensive) taxi back to Staveley. I spent nearly two hours in the pub! There was no rush I was going to bivy on the Coniston side of Walna Scar so only had to get there by dark.

Chatting to one of the other riders it turned out that we'd both worked for the same building firm in Kendal many years ago so there was a bit of "what's X doing now?". He chose to set off with me and head up Walna Scar.

It looked like my timing was right, there were long shadows on the push up the bottom section.

My companion dropped back then another rider appeared and caught me up at the midway gate. We walked together up the next bit, my cramp preventing me from attempting to ride any of it. Finally at the summit we were treated to a great sunset.

It was a bit chilly on top, time to head down. I managed to ride more of it than the last times I've ridden it but I was still a bit shaken by my fall earlier in the day so walked a couple of sections of about 50 metres. Then it was just a blast down to the easier track.

There were plenty of people bivvying out but I thought I'd better find somewhere that Cath could find me. I ended up just on from Boo Tarn (more of a reedy swamp these days) and texted her to let her know. She arrived about an hour later having missed me in the pub by about fifteen minutes.

The morning turned out grey so we didn't get the matching sunrise. Ah well. A quick butty from the filling station in Coniston then it was time to start heading back to Ambleside.

There were a few bridleways in here that I'd not done before. The one below is a fairly steep lane leading up from Yew Tree Farm.

Round past Tarn Hows then another new to me descent towards the Drunken Duck. I'd done the bottom bit the other way some time ago but the main part of the descent was new. The last new to me bit was a bridleway from Outgate towards Brathay then it was familiar territory into town and breakfast.

All that was left was up and over Jenkin's Crag and the bottom bit of Garburn Pass (which has been pitched with stone since I last rode it, definitely much easier to try and climb now). Round by High Borrans where Rich the organiser and another rider caught us up which meant that we could sort ourselves out and take turns to open gates.

Then just the Three Rivers descent and back into Staveley in time for lunch.

All in all a good weekend even if I'm still somewhat battered and bruised from my low speed, as in 0 kmh, over the bars incident.

YD200, the 2018 Edition

2018 has been a somewhat frustrating year, I'd scratched on the first day on the HT550 and on the fifth day of The French Divide so I was a bit down about things. We'd toured Brittany after scratching on the FD but if I'd completed the FD then I doubt I would have considered riding this year's YD200. As it was I thought I'd be OK so rang Stuart on the Friday to see if there were any spaces.

"There's only eight due to turn up! A few who registered have emailed to say they can't make it."

"See you tomorrow morning"

Which meant I had to get the bike ready. But I'm a dab hand at this now. The forecast was fine and cool (hurrah!) for Saturday with rain coming in on Sunday morning. Riding through was the obvious tactic but I'd pack a lightweight bivy system that I've used before: SOl Escape bivy and a PHD lightweight duvet. Along with a windshirt for possible trail use it came to a mighty 600g! An Alpkit Top Tube bag mounted in the frame behind the bottle cage held tools and spares, the pump was strapped to the bottle cage, and two Revelate Feed bags for trail snacks and odds 'n' sods. Pretty lightweight but some did have even less.

Up early and ride into town. Yep, just eight of us. I knew, in varying degrees, four of the others, ITTs are a small and apparently shrinking world. One of those I know is Phil Clarke who I'd ridden with on last year's HT550 and who I'd last seen at Corrour this year when he gave me an inner tube for my busted rear wheel. Returning that we had a chat then Stuart gave his usual pep-talk and soon it was time to go.

I led the small group out of the yard and towards town, that certainly wasn't going to last! Soon enough the front runners are off in front. Let them go. Most of Stuart's rides finish over Barden Moor but this started that way which isn't that usual for me to ride. It's a long drag to the summit especially with the head wind. Soon enough we are dropping down to Rylstone and heading up to Bordley.

The front two (Tom Bruce and Phil) are well ahead but there's a group of four of us riding at roughly the same pace so Mike, George, Ian and myself spend most of the next few hours riding together or as various pairings as our strength ebbs and flows. There's quite a bit of surface water on Mastiles Lane, evidence of Friday's rain, nothing's particularly boggy or muddy though and we keep pressing on.

The Saturday of the August BH weekend is Malham Show Day which has an associated Trailquest meaning that as we pushed westwards towards Settle we'd cross lots of bikers with map boards mounted on their bikes as they rode around picking up controls and points. There was one part of the route that I'd not done before, at the time I thought it was a footpath but checking the map afterwards it wasn't even that, definitely cheeky!

Mike, myself and George at the 3 Peaks cafe in Settle

An agreement was made to have a coffee in Settle then the first of the hard climbs, it's in the 100 road climbs book, where Mike gets a bit of lead on the rest of us before a rapid descent and some nice BW around Wharfe. Lights on for the descent through the tunnels at Clapham and we pop out of those to find Mike dealing with a blown rear tyre.

The next bit to Wray is all road but it's lumpy. There's just George and myself at this point and by the time we get to Wray we could do with refreshments as there'll be nothing until we ride back over the Roman road across Salter's Fell to Slaidburn. The pub is convenient and a drink and ice cream do wonders. Steep road before an equally steep drop and climb back out lead to the end of the tarmac. The first part of the track is a good surface but it deteriorates after a gate, presumably an estate boundary, then again after another gate.

We almost gate crash a wedding on the way in to Slaidburn where we meet up again with Ian. We've just about finished our coffee when Mike arrives - George and I thought he'd passed us when we were in the pub but fixing his tyre had taken longer than anticipated. As we pass through Gisburn Forest he nips off to the cafe/shop to see if they have inner tubes for sale.

There's short sections of one of the marked routes we need to follow and I'm reminded why I don't like trail centres. Ah well, at least it's over pretty soon. Unfortunately as we climb through the forest I get the early signs of cramp and George and Ian leave me behind. Nothing to do but ease off and pedal through it. At least there's a long bit of generally downhill road next. One climb up to above Settle then a bit of bridleway I'd not done before and then I'm in town.

George and Ian are sat outside the Co-op, I nip in and grab what I need. I leave five minutes after them and won't see them until the finish. I normally manage the climb on the Settle Loop out of town but the cramps force me to walk some of it - at least I clean one of the rocky sections for the first time.

Once on top it's easy going as now there's a tail wind. Most of the puddles on Mastiles Lane have gone, in fact one beck that we'd avoided on the way out because it was so deep was now almost dry. With lots of interlinked loops in the route at this point it was possible I'd see the front riders and so it proved as Phil and I met at a gate. A quick chat about timings and we head on. I'd enough food to not need to visit the Spar at Threshfield but I needed to walk the steep tarmac back onto the tops. Down to the foot of Mastiles then start heading up again.

Mike catches me at this point - he'd stopped for something to eat at Tosside - as we get to the steeper top section we both get off and walk. The moon is just rising and we both stop to take a shot. Once on top it's nearly dark and the wind feels keen so on with the arm warmers and press on. I switch my lights on just before Lee Gate farm, no point in risking things.

There's just one short steep climb to Weets Top and as the cramps come back Mike pulls away. I'll be on my own to the finish. The descent to Calton is a blast in the dark. I text Cath to let her know my expected finish time and polish off the road section to Bell Busk. Just Markhouse Lane, the canal towpath and the old railway track to do.

I've done bits of the old railway track where the Land-Rover experience use it but not the section heading back to town. The pools looked particularly black tonight, well worth avoiding. The "new" bit starts off as double track but slowly gets less and less well defined until soon you are on a path riding through bushes. There's no lights to indicate where I am but all of a sudden the angle goes downhill sharply and I debouch onto the road. Just TT mode back to the finish.

I finish just before 11pm having taken just under 15hrs. Phil and my three companions are there and we chat for a while before it's time to head home and get some kip. The fastest time was 12hrs22mins.

Overall not a bad effort. I could still feel this summer's efforts in my legs, in particular there's no real top end power and sustained tempo is a bit lacking - going up long draggy hills I'd invariably drop behind whoever I was with.

French Divide Kit List

The French Divide would be the longest (by far) ride that I'd attempt so working out what kit to take required a bit of thinking. Generally things would be warm, but they turned out to be a lot warmer than anticipated, but there could also be big storms.

Having done enough bikepacking and ITTs I've got most of my kit sorted so in the end there wasn't much difference to something like the HT550. I took a few extra spares as I wasn't sure of finding anything en-route.

I've linked to some of the items I took, the harnesses and bags should be searchable with how I've listed them. Clothing and the like is pretty generic but when looking at cycling shorts and shoes, what fits one person another will completely dislike.

I used my Cotic Solaris (Mk1) with Travers Prong carbon fibre forks. I fitted a set of Velo Orange Crazy Bars to give me more hand positions. I had an SP dynamo built into a front wheel, Stans Blunt 35mm rim, and mounted a Vittoria Mexcal 2.6" tyre to it. The rear wheel is a Hope Pro 4 XC hoop with Bontrager XR2 2.2" tyre. I used my usual 1x10 drivetrain, 30T up front, 11-40T cassette.

So from front to back:

Wildcat Lion harness
Wildcat double ended wet/dry dry bag. I find this very useful to separate the wet and dry parts of my bivy system. It's all standard off-the-shelf stuff and apart from the mat being full rather than torso length is the same as I took on last year's HT550.

• Trekkertent cuben fibre tarp
• Borah Gear Ultralight bivy bag
• Cumulus 150 quilt
• Klymit X-frame sleeping mat

A pair of flip-flops for walking around camp.

My SPOT tracker was fixed to the top of the Lion harness.

Mounted on the handlebars were a Garmin Oregon GPS unit and an Exposure Joystick light. The latter was mainly used around camp as I did very little night time riding.

Strapped underneath the stem was an Igaro D1 converter unit to sit between the dynamo hub (AC) and the batteries (DC). I'll deal with how I went about powering stuff in another post.

Revelate Mountain Feed Bag (x2)
The Revelate bags are a bit bigger than most other stem cell type bags plus the external elasticated pockets are usable even when the bag is full. They also can be open and closed one handed so usable on the move.
Trail food went into one bag. This also had midge repellent in one of the pockets.
The other bag was generally a free-for-all but usually contained my glasses, camera, phone and wallet (plastic bag with money and card). The external pockets held a whistle (mandatory for the event) and a bag with all my electronic cables.

Alpkit Top Tube Bag
This is the medium size I think. Contained a lot of odds and sods.

• MSR Trailshot water filter (not used)
• 10,000mAh Powerbank battery
• 3,500mAh battery
• Baby wipes
• First Aid kit
• Passport (well it had to go somewhere)

Bearbabe downtube bag
This held all my tools and spares. Even though there might be bike shops along the way they aren't going to be of use if one of your bike specific parts breaks so best to be as self-sufficient as possible.

• One spare inner tube (the right size this time!)
• Multitool
• Leatherman Squirt pliers
• Tyre levers
• Emergency spoke
• Spare mech hanger
• A tin of spare nuts and bolts
• 50ml tube of sealant
• Tube of chain lube - wet as the dry variety doesn't last if you are going through puddles.
• Black Diamond expedition sewing kit
• Puncture repair kit
• Repair kit for sleeping mat.
• 2 sets of spare batteries for the SPOT tracker.
• Carbon fibre pole for the tarp (from Stuart at Bearbones)
• Pegs for tarp

Wildcat Tiger Seat Harness
Wildcat tapered dry bag

• Buff
• Light thermal top
• Light thermal shorts
• Spare cycling bibs
• Spare cycle top
• 1 pair spare cycling gloves (not used)
• 1 pair spare socks (not used)
• T-shirt
• Mountain bike baggies
• 1 pair underpants
• A dry bag containing toiletries. 
• Endura lightweight waterproof tucked into the harness strap.

The baggies, t-shirt and underpants were for getting to and from the ride and for wearing at night if I needed to. The baggies were a bit on the heavy side but I'd nothing else suitable.

I wouldn't take a second pair of gloves as I only wore the main set for one day to avoid sunburn before my hands got a tan. I'm not sure about taking the spare bib shorts and top either, a bit of talcum powder on the pad at night and I'm usually OK. I use the dry bag as a pillow at night and the buff is a cover to that to give a bit of extra comfort.

Not sure of the overall weight, the only bit that felt "heavy" was the seat pack. I didn't bother with any cooking kit, relying totally on finding cafes and shops en-route. Even if I had it would only have been a meths stove, a mug and a small amount of fuel. As I noted at the top of this post, I've got things pretty well sorted and mostly it's just tweeks for the circumstances of each route/ride.

The Heat of Darkness

Apologies to Joseph Konrad for the title ...

Some time ago Cath announced that she wanted to do the French Divide. Hmm. I had a look and thought that I didn't fancy dot-watching for two weeks so I'd try it as well. 2200km of mainly off-road riding from the top right corner of France to the bottom left. (Easier than trying to describe where the start and finish towns are). Limited to 150 entries, Cath was starting on the Saturday and myself on the Sunday as I'm normally a bit quicker than she is. Note the word "normally". There's no real time limit but the organisers hold a party at the finish two weeks after the start.

With getting to the start and the time to get back you actually need three weeks' holiday.

Each start has a registration and briefing on the day before so you need to be in the starting town of Bray Dunes for that. A ferry to Dunkirk then a late night ride to find the camp site full and we had to find another campsite a bit further out of town. Registration was all quite convivial with each rider introducing themselves and explaining where they were from, etc. Then it was final packing and something to eat.

I got myself some beer goggles

These bikes didn't make it.

The start was at sunrise, 0624! which I suppose is as good a time as any but you needed to be there 45mins earlier. So a very early alarm call. Cath headed off to get there in time while I sauntered along at my own pace.

The first few Km had a lead out car, a Citroen 2CV no less.

And then they were gone. In another 24hrs it would be my turn.

Sunday morning and another sunrise, the same procedure as yesterday. Shouts of "Allez! Allez!" and we are off. It's a hell of a pace, I'd be happy with it on an unladen road bike let alone an MTB with bivy gear and kit - I hit 50kmh at one point, on the flat on a mountain bike! The lead out car pulls away but the pace doesn't let up. There's no way I can keep this going so at the first dusty farm track I stop and take a shot.

It's the last I'll see of the fast riders. The rest of the day is spent flitting between the tail enders. The route weaves in and out of the French/Belgium border. Not a problem except that this is Sunday and as one lady at a "Surprise revito" (think trail angel with a van full of water and fruit) noted "La Dimanche? La Belge dorme!

At one of the few places we found open

It turned out that I'd ride nearly 150km before finding somewhere open that served anything more than a croissant. A McDonald's on the outskirts of Seclin. It's at this point it's worth noting that this was only the fourth time in my life that I've visited a McDonald's. Fast food? Quite how a pre-packed salad can take 20 minutes to prepare is beyond me. A good job I was the only person in the queue or being served. Also why does a salad need something deep fried in it?

Around this point we hit the pave sections used on the Paris-Roubaix race though we were doing them in the opposite direction. We didn't do all the secteurs but quite how you ride in a bunch, at speed, on a road bike along them is beyond me. I recognised a few of the corners as well as the Arenburg section with its cutting and bridge. There was a guy here with a "Allez le French Divide" board on his bike who'd ride alongside you then take shots.

Up to this point I'd been going quite well. Tucked up in my own little world following a track on the GPS screen. Then the heat turned up. While my speed in the morning was reasonable (though not the 35kmh+ of the start) as time went on I slowed and slowed. The last 20Km to the town of Le Quesnoy seemed to take forever. When I get there there's a fair on. I find the campsite and grab some food from one of the fair stalls and crash out only to be woken by a firework display. ah well.

239km, 1200m climbing, 13hrs moving, 3hrs faffing

Day 2

Up and away by about 0600, well before the campsite office is open so I shove my seven Euros under the door. If only I'd ridden another five kilometres I'd have had a nice quiet bivy in the woods. There's a lot of woods actually and for much of the day I don't see much or indeed anyone whether a rider on the event or not. A few deer cross the path in the early morning. Again as the day progresses the heat rises and my speed falls.

As evening approaches I get to a small town, Rocroi, the information sign shows 37C! No wonder I'm struggling. What follows next is an ace couple of km swooping through woods until a long drag up a fire road intervenes. I miss the next turning but pick it up and follow the quad bike track as it undulates along a slope. The GPS trace shows the next bit as turning sharp left. That's straight downhill! So it proved, over a kilometre of pretty steep track straight down the fall line of the slope. Great fun.

Then it's more pushing and at the top of the next hill I decide to skip the last little bit and head into town to the first checkpoint. There's a long easy climb to begin with though, less than 5% gradient but I have to walk it. My "reward" is a long downhill blast into town, getting all the lights on green. I'm just in time for food at the bar. My brevet card signed I head for the campsite.

166km, 2100m climbing, 13hrs moving, 2.5hrs faffing

Day 3

Up early again and I'm away pedalling steadily up slopes that yesterday afternoon would have seen me walking. I'm going well as I pass a fancy gateway to a big house. Common style I think, there was one like that yesterday. I look to the other side of the road to see a water storage facility and it hits me. It's the same house I saw yesterday evening! I've followed the route I should have taken into town last night but in reverse. Back the way I came (easily riding the climb I'd walked the night before) and start again. What I didn't know was that was just to be the start of my problems for the day.

Having lost two hours I pushed on. It was already getting hot. By 11am I was in need of food. Just off route lay a town, even better there was a big sign saying "Intermarche". Time for some resupplies. I sat in the shade of an old filling station forecourt roof eating my purchases and just getting hotter and hotter. Time to move on. The route lay along the flat bottom of a valley for a few km before turning off and heading up the valley side. Only a slope of 5% but I could only just walk it. That tree at the top's got my name on it. I lay there in the shade exhausted when I hear another rider approach. We sit there numb with the heat. Eventually we push on.

After a couple more hills where the above was repeated I'd had enough even though it was only mid-afternoon. Signs for the nearby town stated that it was home to "The European beer museum". Get somewhere to kip and recharge. Even coasting downhill at 50kmh I was getting hotter. The info sign in the main square stated it was 44C :shock: Even allowing for a couple of degrees inaccuracy, it was hot.

I found a B&B - first thing was to sit in a cool shower for 20mins to try and cool down. I went into town to get something to eat but everything was shut for various reasons. The family at the B&B took pity on me and fed me an evening meal while we chatted in broken Frenglish.

116km, 1300m climbing, 8.5hrs moving, 3hrs faffing

Day 4

Overnight there were thunderstorms, Cath got caught in these, by the morning the temperature had dropped but it was pretty humid in its place. A late start due to having breakfast at a reasonable hour. I meet another rider in the next town, he's scratching, I'm on my own again. I wasn't sure what I was going to make of today as it passed through the battlefields around Verdun. In the event I sobbed my way through the deserted villages, reflecting on how modern stupidity is taking us in the same direction. One village had ghostly life size images of the families who'd lived in each destroyed house another a simple stone marking the location of a home. The simple white crosses at the official memorial of men who died over an argument over a line on a map were similarly moving.

I arrived in Verdun too early for a proper evening meal so grabbed what I could and headed onward. I found a spot in a field overlooking a valley so settled down for the night. Or would have if half the local village hadn't used the nearby track for their evening walks and goodness knows what.

104km, 1900m climbing, 8.5hrs moving, 2.5hrs faffing

Day 5

Never quit at night, sleep on it and see how you feel in the morning. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the heat had got to me and I was managing less and less each day. With a fifteen day limit you need to be doing at least 150km a day and this first bit is the easy part. Mornings were fine, it was just the afternoon heat. Each day had been a battle. Decision made I headed back to Verdun.

Unbeknownst to me, Cath had been hit by thunderstorms on successive nights soaking all of her kit including her phone which subsequently had given up the ghost. She couldn't remember my mobile number, who remembers any number these days when the phone does it for you? The only number she could remember was her sisters so the campsite let her ring her sister who texted me what had happened. Eventually I managed to ring the site and speak to her. She was going to scratch as well. She'd got just beyond the next major town of Vitry le Francoise. We sorted out where to meet and let the organisers know our plans.

We'd still got nearly two weeks' holiday left so decided to do a bit of touring, after a bit of touristy stuff in Reims and Paris.

Take aways

• Don't start on the Sunday - everything's shut!
• Be prepared to ride fast
• The French have set hours for eating, get to towns for those times.