Why?
Almost a year ago Guy expressed his concerns at the growing levels of inactivity and obesity in UK school-age children as well as the lack of organized outdoor sporting events for young people. Guy established a Community Interest Company called ConceptX to address this, with the aim of organizing outdoor activities specifically for under 18s. I share Guys concerns and therefore jumped at the idea of cycling Coast-to-Coast to raise money for these events. I had high hopes of being able to drum up a strong University of Bristol Cycling Club contingent, however one by one they dropped and unfortunately I was the sole survivor who made it to the start line in Whitehaven.
The Ride
A quick Google search will throw up hundreds of guides detailing how to prepare for a long hilly ride, and some of them may actually be talking sense. I feel that a ride of 207km with 3000m of climb fits quite snuggly in the “long hilly ride” category, and so it follows that there should be an abundance of tips for preparing for the Coast to Coast ride.
At a glance, most guides advising carb-loading, the day or two before the ride. Plenty of rest the night before, and an easy week leading up to the big ride, with most of the training miles completed 3-8 weeks before. Now as it happens, I feel pretty confident, through experience, that I can get up, go for a ride, and return in one piece without once having looked at Cycling for Dummies. And it’s this mentality I took with me to Whitehaven on the eve of the longest ride of my life.
We arrived in Low Moresby on the Friday afternoon in great time thanks to my trusty navigator, (and number 1 supporter), Beth. It was only after we were on our way home that Beth pointed out I could have made things a lot simpler by riding home from the B&B as I would cover pretty much the same mileage… Maybe that’s an idea for another adventure?
So on the eve of the ride, as you do, we dressed up nice and smart and headed out for a dead posh meal with small portions and delicately balanced tastes blended on each forkful. I ordered seabass with a base of lobster and crab ravioli; I felt I should get at least some pasta down me. Okay, so it’s less than ideal preparation food, but it was so tasty! It was a brilliant way to celebrate 3 years with my girlfriend and it proved to put a jovial spin on the tough times to come. C2C-Day may push the happy smiles of the night before to their limits as Beth endured the early start, appalling conditions, questionable rider smells and several hundred miles driving as she followed us across the country and subsequently ferried me home.
At a glance, most guides advising carb-loading, the day or two before the ride. Plenty of rest the night before, and an easy week leading up to the big ride, with most of the training miles completed 3-8 weeks before. Now as it happens, I feel pretty confident, through experience, that I can get up, go for a ride, and return in one piece without once having looked at Cycling for Dummies. And it’s this mentality I took with me to Whitehaven on the eve of the longest ride of my life.
We arrived in Low Moresby on the Friday afternoon in great time thanks to my trusty navigator, (and number 1 supporter), Beth. It was only after we were on our way home that Beth pointed out I could have made things a lot simpler by riding home from the B&B as I would cover pretty much the same mileage… Maybe that’s an idea for another adventure?
So on the eve of the ride, as you do, we dressed up nice and smart and headed out for a dead posh meal with small portions and delicately balanced tastes blended on each forkful. I ordered seabass with a base of lobster and crab ravioli; I felt I should get at least some pasta down me. Okay, so it’s less than ideal preparation food, but it was so tasty! It was a brilliant way to celebrate 3 years with my girlfriend and it proved to put a jovial spin on the tough times to come. C2C-Day may push the happy smiles of the night before to their limits as Beth endured the early start, appalling conditions, questionable rider smells and several hundred miles driving as she followed us across the country and subsequently ferried me home.
The 4:30am alarm was snoozed twice, which allowed us only 20mins to meet our planned 5am departure time; with 4hours more sleep, these tasks could have been completed in 10mins. However, with just over 4 hours sleep, and very groggy, every task proved to be a challenge, and it was quite by chance that I remembered to tip toe around so as not to wake the dogs and apparent menagerie cohabiting the B&B.
Loaded up on porridge, toast, banana and yoghurt I was proud we set off a mere 5mins behind schedule at 5:05am. Unfortunately, I have “selective reading/hearing” enabled as default when communicating with teachers/lecturers/parents, and it appears old habits die hard as I had failed to read in an email from Guy (organizer of the C2C ride and the Deputy Head in my Sixth Form), that the start had been pushed forward an hour from 6 to 5. Oh well. It’s not like they had to wait 20 minutes in the rain or anything for me? Dammit! Great, there goes all hopes of not getting off on the wrong foot with the 5 guys I’d never met before.
Loaded up on porridge, toast, banana and yoghurt I was proud we set off a mere 5mins behind schedule at 5:05am. Unfortunately, I have “selective reading/hearing” enabled as default when communicating with teachers/lecturers/parents, and it appears old habits die hard as I had failed to read in an email from Guy (organizer of the C2C ride and the Deputy Head in my Sixth Form), that the start had been pushed forward an hour from 6 to 5. Oh well. It’s not like they had to wait 20 minutes in the rain or anything for me? Dammit! Great, there goes all hopes of not getting off on the wrong foot with the 5 guys I’d never met before.
With the customary pre-ride photos out of the way, the wait (slightly longer for some, sorry!) was over and we were on our way. At 5:30 we would have been struggling for light without having to deal with the rain that had come out specially to send us off. As a result of the poor light I was stylishly sporting my “clear lenses” aka University of Bristol standard issue safety glasses (shhh). Ben later enlightened me as to how amazing his photochromatic lenses were. They’re now firmly on the wish-list alongside new wheels, TT helmet, TT bike and plenty of other outrageously priced gadgetry. Dream on Tom…
After no more than a kilometre of navigating Whitehaven’s twists and turns we were shocked to our senses as the road ramped skywards and we began our first hill of the ride. It really was a bugger to tackle with cold legs and the prospect of a further 205km of undulating road to traverse; so I was slightly shocked when I started pulling away from the others. My enthusiasm was soon dented as the shouts of “TOM!” travelled over on the wind to inform me I’d already made a wrong turn and travelled too far up the hill. I could tell it was going to be one of those days. With no GPS map of my own to follow I was barred from going flying off into the distance. I was on a par with the cheeky sheep of a flock; following everyone else, but running around a bit wildly and sometimes getting all excited and ending up ahead, but waiting to ensure the rest of the flock were still following. This was most prevalent at inclines where Ben and I showed to be the strongest climbers, with Mark (new to cycling 6 months ago), putting up a great effort to stay with the two of us at points.
After no more than a kilometre of navigating Whitehaven’s twists and turns we were shocked to our senses as the road ramped skywards and we began our first hill of the ride. It really was a bugger to tackle with cold legs and the prospect of a further 205km of undulating road to traverse; so I was slightly shocked when I started pulling away from the others. My enthusiasm was soon dented as the shouts of “TOM!” travelled over on the wind to inform me I’d already made a wrong turn and travelled too far up the hill. I could tell it was going to be one of those days. With no GPS map of my own to follow I was barred from going flying off into the distance. I was on a par with the cheeky sheep of a flock; following everyone else, but running around a bit wildly and sometimes getting all excited and ending up ahead, but waiting to ensure the rest of the flock were still following. This was most prevalent at inclines where Ben and I showed to be the strongest climbers, with Mark (new to cycling 6 months ago), putting up a great effort to stay with the two of us at points.
Barely an hour into the ride and any ”new person filter” had vanished as the conversation degraded into the usual jibes and inappropriate comments. Unfortunately this joviality all too soon came to bite us, well more accurately Mike, in the bum. As we passed through a small village we spotted several handcrafted signs warning to watch out for red squirrels, shortly followed by a rather official looking road sign with a cute squirrel on it. Obviously the grown men got giddy at this and Guy insisted if we saw another we must stop for a photo. Sure enough, as we rolled down a small slope and left the village, there was squirrel sign facing the other way. All of a sudden the five of us in the know began to brake and slow so pictures could be documented, however the “squirrel hunt” message had failed to reach the last 3, and as they came over the crest of the small dip, they encountered a wall of fellow riders inviting an inevitable crash. Mike’s arm, arse and leg tell the rest of the tale as he got up close and personal with the unforgiving slick tarmac and Paul’s rear wheel. Mike luckily got up and completed the ride, albeit it a new pair of shorts and a fair few chunks of skin require replacing.
Whinlatter Pass
Whinlatter Pass was the first recognised climb on the route, topping out at 330m. We ascended the ‘easy side’, with a gradient of around 6%, leveling out to a false flat for the last 1km allowing me to stretch my legs and get the heart rate up a bit. I arrived at the top in good time to take some pictures of the rest of the group.
After regrouping we descended the Eastern slope which boasted a maximum gradient of 15%. If the slight tailwind wasn’t enough to convince me we were best off travelling west to east then avoiding this nasty climb was the clincher. Good luck to anyone who has to tackle it halfway through the Fred Whitton Challenge.
After 2 hours in the saddle we reached Keswick and took our first stop at the quaint, Laura In The Lakes Café. The big men loaded up on Bacon Butties; I was blissfully content munching on my homemade “EPO” flapjacks.
A sheep farmer pegged us as C2C riders and took pleasure in letting us know that winds across the Pennines were topping 60mph!! Later confirmed to be a max of 30mph, but more than enough to put the wind up us.
After 2 hours in the saddle we reached Keswick and took our first stop at the quaint, Laura In The Lakes Café. The big men loaded up on Bacon Butties; I was blissfully content munching on my homemade “EPO” flapjacks.
A sheep farmer pegged us as C2C riders and took pleasure in letting us know that winds across the Pennines were topping 60mph!! Later confirmed to be a max of 30mph, but more than enough to put the wind up us.
Keswick to Penrith was quite uneventful. The weather still couldn’t make up its mind, the wind was picking up even more, and we had a chance to go Team Time Trial mode as we blasted along a section of the A66.
A short coffee stop at the Narrowbar Café was a much needed boost to the tired minds of the “old” men before we tackled the Pennines. I was still happily fueled by flapjack and water. My wallet is glad I’ve postponed any caffeine addiction… for now.
A short coffee stop at the Narrowbar Café was a much needed boost to the tired minds of the “old” men before we tackled the Pennines. I was still happily fueled by flapjack and water. My wallet is glad I’ve postponed any caffeine addiction… for now.
We left Penrith anticipating the long climb we'd been warned about to start quite soon. Fell Lane came within 1km of setting off again, and took us a bit by surprise. Some even got excited that this was the big'un, and it was "easier than expected" but the excitement proved to be premature and after hauling ourselves over the 50m “lump” we feasted our eyes on the monster to come. Heart break for some. We happened across a couple of riders on sportives sharing part of the C2C route. This provided mild entertainment with some easy pickings to glide past in formation and other groups giving us a run for our money as they sped past. In the end Ben, Matt, Mark and I gracefully gave up the race with a certain group to wait for the rest of our riders (not because we didn’t trust Ben’s dodgy GPS guidance). When we meet again Mr Vegas, you’re going down! About 12km out of Penrith the real climbing began; this is where I really noticed the experience of riding in the Alps paying off. The winds from the South were brutal, unfortunately adhering to the forecast at around 20-30mph and bringing with them low rain clouds that reduced visibility at the summit to a mere 100 metres.
Ben and I worked well together as usual taking turns on the front and maintaining a reasonable cadence. Unbeknown to us, poor Mark had us in sight the whole way up and struggled on with no one to draft. As the road snaked upwards the wind switched from headwind to tailwind with crosswinds in between. Half an hour of ascending later, views ruined by cloud cover, we began the scariest descent of my life.
No switchbacks. No sharp drops at either side. No ice. So why was it scary? The lack of switchbacks meant the road was perpendicular to the direction of the wind for almost the entire 9km to Alston. With only 66kg anchoring me to the slippery road, I felt very vulnerable with 30mph winds continually pushing against my side. On more than one occasion I was swept across the road only narrowly avoiding being throw over a dry-stonewall at 60kph. As a result, I knocked off the speed, figuring that crashing slower would hurt less (great insight there I know), and somehow made it down in one piece.
Ben and I worked well together as usual taking turns on the front and maintaining a reasonable cadence. Unbeknown to us, poor Mark had us in sight the whole way up and struggled on with no one to draft. As the road snaked upwards the wind switched from headwind to tailwind with crosswinds in between. Half an hour of ascending later, views ruined by cloud cover, we began the scariest descent of my life.
No switchbacks. No sharp drops at either side. No ice. So why was it scary? The lack of switchbacks meant the road was perpendicular to the direction of the wind for almost the entire 9km to Alston. With only 66kg anchoring me to the slippery road, I felt very vulnerable with 30mph winds continually pushing against my side. On more than one occasion I was swept across the road only narrowly avoiding being throw over a dry-stonewall at 60kph. As a result, I knocked off the speed, figuring that crashing slower would hurt less (great insight there I know), and somehow made it down in one piece.
Guy’s route planning threw up a gem for lunch in Alston (if you could make it up the cobbled hill that is). Blueberrys welcomed us with warmth (and hugs from Beth). I was worried we wouldn’t all fit! There was a nervous 20mins as we waited for Alex to see whether we would all fit but we just about squeezed in. I wolfed down a delicious panini, avoiding chips after a bad chip experience on the Galibier. Tucking in to something other than flapjacks was lush.
It took a while to prize ourselves from Blueberrys and then it was a quick pitstop at the van to stuff pockets with flapjacks and switch from safety specs to stylish polarized shades before we rode the last big stint of climbing. There was no time to ease the legs back in, as the first of 3 significant climbs began immediately. The rain and wind remained relentless. “False climbs” lead us to believe we’d tackled all 3 in record time, only to be brought back down to earth and find out we were only halfway through the torment. The Pennines really did throw pretty much everything they had, but that just makes the victory all the more sweet. Without the support around me, I don’t think I could have coped. We topped the shortest, steepest, third climb at 138.8km. The scenery before us was almost completely flat (only one more 2km climb to go). If it's a clear day apparently you can see the sea from here!
It took a while to prize ourselves from Blueberrys and then it was a quick pitstop at the van to stuff pockets with flapjacks and switch from safety specs to stylish polarized shades before we rode the last big stint of climbing. There was no time to ease the legs back in, as the first of 3 significant climbs began immediately. The rain and wind remained relentless. “False climbs” lead us to believe we’d tackled all 3 in record time, only to be brought back down to earth and find out we were only halfway through the torment. The Pennines really did throw pretty much everything they had, but that just makes the victory all the more sweet. Without the support around me, I don’t think I could have coped. We topped the shortest, steepest, third climb at 138.8km. The scenery before us was almost completely flat (only one more 2km climb to go). If it's a clear day apparently you can see the sea from here!
The group was chirpy as we rode into Blanchland for pitstop number 4 at The White Monk Tearoom. As legs were getting more weary, so the stops were getting longer; with each passing minute it became harder and harder to prize tired legs and numb bums from comfy chairs and brave the weather again. Fortunately the sun broke through at just the right moment and after 50 minutes in the tearoom we finally rallied the troops and continued on our quest towards Tynemouth.
The penultimate stint to Ryton was great for reflection on what we had accomplished so far. With the Lakes and Pennines behind us and only Engine Rd Climb left to tackle, we counted ourselves lucky we’d encountered no mechanical faults and had it not been for the bloomin’ squirrel incident giving Mike a few more holes in his arse, we’d have had a clean sheet to report. Still, our ability to stay upright was surprising considering the riding conditions.
The Half Moon Inn was our final pitstop before the finish. At 30km I really wanted to crack on for fear of my Garmin losing battery. A “quick stop” turned into a half hour leg seizer. On continuing, the route threw up with some new obstacles as we tried to avoid main roads resulting in us riding along some nice, and some rather sketchy, cyclepaths. One thing that really annoys me in the UK is the inability of councils to keep cyclepaths clear, despite the Government advertising that they’re investing £94million into new routes. Sort out the old ones first!! Cyclepaths need constant maintenance to make them rideable. We dodged broken glass, several dead animals, bollards, low hung trees and inch thick mud on our run in to the finish. I seemingly have no concept of how wide my shoulders are, which lead to me shoulder barging a pedestrian crossing button box as we crossed another road. Apparently the whole thing spun round. All I know is it bloody well hurt!
Lo and behold, with 10km to go (less than half an hour of riding left), the Garmin died! Then the rain came down. Make that a Monsoon! Roads turned to rivers and the growing elation that was building with every kilometre closer to finishing, turned slightly sour.
Finally, after a bit of a mix up leading to us not actually finding the official C2C finish, we stumbled upon the ramp down to the beach which was good enough for us. I freewheeled the last 200m, brakes fully applied, skating on water down to the beach.
The Half Moon Inn was our final pitstop before the finish. At 30km I really wanted to crack on for fear of my Garmin losing battery. A “quick stop” turned into a half hour leg seizer. On continuing, the route threw up with some new obstacles as we tried to avoid main roads resulting in us riding along some nice, and some rather sketchy, cyclepaths. One thing that really annoys me in the UK is the inability of councils to keep cyclepaths clear, despite the Government advertising that they’re investing £94million into new routes. Sort out the old ones first!! Cyclepaths need constant maintenance to make them rideable. We dodged broken glass, several dead animals, bollards, low hung trees and inch thick mud on our run in to the finish. I seemingly have no concept of how wide my shoulders are, which lead to me shoulder barging a pedestrian crossing button box as we crossed another road. Apparently the whole thing spun round. All I know is it bloody well hurt!
Lo and behold, with 10km to go (less than half an hour of riding left), the Garmin died! Then the rain came down. Make that a Monsoon! Roads turned to rivers and the growing elation that was building with every kilometre closer to finishing, turned slightly sour.
Finally, after a bit of a mix up leading to us not actually finding the official C2C finish, we stumbled upon the ramp down to the beach which was good enough for us. I freewheeled the last 200m, brakes fully applied, skating on water down to the beach.
We made it!
I had been fantasizing about Fish and Chips for the last 40km of the ride, and finally, well deserved, I was rewarded with the perfect post ride food. The usual post-ride rituals go out the window when you take on something epic and you can never really tell what’s going to happen. Luckily for us the temperature had been lofty throughout, but other than that, we had battled through most weather systems as we traversed the country. The luke-warmness was a small let-up in an otherwise never-ending tirade of all Mother Nature had to offer. We fought it, and we won!
Thanks to all the guys I rode with. I met many few new faces, and I’m sure it won’t be long before we see each other again. Thanks to Jane for driving the support van and putting up with Graham, and Graham for providing Matt with an object to bully mercilessly at any opportunity. You really took one for the team there! That’s the thanks you get for showing up to support your Nephew.
Special thanks of course go to Beth, who was my rock for the ride and in life itself. It was a long day for everyone, and one I will never forget.
Thanks to all the guys I rode with. I met many few new faces, and I’m sure it won’t be long before we see each other again. Thanks to Jane for driving the support van and putting up with Graham, and Graham for providing Matt with an object to bully mercilessly at any opportunity. You really took one for the team there! That’s the thanks you get for showing up to support your Nephew.
Special thanks of course go to Beth, who was my rock for the ride and in life itself. It was a long day for everyone, and one I will never forget.